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Pride

By: oggbashan



Copyright Oggbashan June 2004

The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. 

* * * * *

It all happened because Janie was proud of my size. I'm not. I'm embarrassed by it. It frightens some women away. It makes other men jealous.

It's not as if it is a record breaker. OK. It is large and thick but it's an everyday big. It may be the largest in our town, but I'm fairly sure it's not the largest in the county and certainly not the largest in the country. It is fully operational. That I am proud about. I know it is big but so what? A normal woman can reduce its size in minutes and use it so much that I can't keep up with her. 

I used to get comments in the showers after sport. By the time I was eighteen I used to drive home sweaty and shower in peace. It is the same situation as someone having an unusual name. The joke may be new to the speaker but I have heard them all dozens of times. The town knew I had a big one but since I didn't brag about it or wave it around it was one of the things that everyone knew. It wasn't a topic of conversation any more. That was preferable to being followed by small boys (and girls!) wanting to see it.

Janie appreciated my size. If she hadn't been so proud of it and hadn't wanted to show it off we might still have been partners. She put my tool to good use and she managed to accommodate it. Every woman I have dated has been able to manage after sufficient preparation. I am valued and liked for my foreplay. I have to take a long time to get a woman sufficiently aroused for her to attempt to engulf me. I am proud of my pussy licking and I am really skilled at it. I have to be. Most women lock their pussies tight when they see my erection the first time. After half an hour of pussy licking they start to relax. After an hour of it they would try to engulf a super-tanker. Even if the relationship doesn't develop we tend to stay friendly. 

Why? How many men do you know who will pussy-lick for an hour? I'm told it gives the woman a great feeling that a man cares enough for her needs to spend that long arousing her. It helps that she knows that she is in control and I am literally at her feet. I'm tall and well built but all the women I've dated have never felt threatened by me, just in awe of my biggest asset. Once they have accommodated that, the awe has gone. Now I'm older I know that some of the women just wanted me for a trophy. They wanted to be able to tell their friends that they had humbled the biggest tool in town.

I had only been back in town a couple of months after five years away getting my Ph.D. and starting my own business. I'd just sold the business and had enough money to do whatever I wanted. Now that was pretending to farm.

Janie had latched on to me within a week of my return. I hadn't known that almost all the available men had married. I had been vulnerable because I'd been working so hard that I'd had no time for women except as colleagues. Janie hit me like a tidal wave and I was lost.

National Nude Day was near. Janie had an idea that she didn't discuss with me. If she had – I would have refused to co-operate. She wanted to show everyone that she owned the man with the biggest tool in town. She didn't expect me to parade down Main Street with my asset on display so she thought of another way to get me to show off. She knew that almost every attractive woman aroused me. I had to wear loose cut boxers and trousers to allow for the movement. Walking through town on a hot summer's day my tool would be standing up all the time as I passed women in light summer clothing.

We were expecting many of our friends to be around for National Nude Day. It wasn't planned that way. It just happened. Janie was the one with the plans. I didn't know that she had set up an event. She persuaded most of our friends before she set to work on me. I was lying in bed after an interesting evening when she told me.

"Matt?"

"Yes, Janie."

"You know most of our friends are going to be in town in a couple of weeks?"

"Yes?" I didn't know what Janie was after.

"Some of us have decided to make it an event. You know that Mr. Thomas has that clearing in the woods?"

"Yes. We used to go there on our bicycles when we were kids. It was a long haul uphill and a trek through the trees. I loved it. Why?"

"We are going to camp there for a couple of days."

"We are?"

"Yes. We, and all our friends."

"But you can't get to it by car."

"So? We carry everything in. It is only a couple of hundred yards through the wood. Mr. Thomas will move the sheep off before we get there. The spring is drinkable. We can wash in the stream. We've arranged a couple of portaloos..."

"How do they get there? There's no road or track."

"Mr. Thomas will take them in with his mini-tractor. He's measured the path carefully. He can just get through. It's all arranged."

"It is? Why didn't I know?"

"I wanted it to be a surprise. It might not have happened if Mr Thomas hadn't been happy to assist. Almost everyone's children are away so it's an opportunity that won't come again."

"Why are the kids away?"

"Some school trip, I think," she said.

I left it at that. I rather liked the idea of a weekend camping. I hadn't had a holiday for five years and setting the farm up, though a change, hadn't been a holiday. Eventually I might be busy at the farm when I had stocked it with rare breeds, but there was no stock yet. I could leave it for a weekend.

The one thing I didn't know and Janie didn't tell me was that we would be nude at the camp. The others knew and were looking forward to it, reliving their skinny dipping days. No one told me because they all thought I knew. Janie didn't tell me until we were on the way. I was still recovering from the shock when I arrived at the site pushing a wheelbarrow with some of our camping equipment.

There facing me was Louisa, stark naked. She still had the wonderful breasts I'd played with on vacation. They looked wrinklier around the aureoles. She'd had two - or was it three children? She rushed up to me and hugged me before I'd had a chance to let go of the wheelbarrow. Her breasts pushed against my T-shirt. Those breasts had been the stuff of my dreams for years. Their soft reality had the usual effect. She felt my tool press against her.

"I see you still know how to compliment a woman," Louisa whispered in my ear while pressing her fuzzy crotch to my shorts. My erection pushed back hard. I let go of the barrow and grabbed her for her a long kiss.

"Louisa," I panted as we broke, "You're a married woman!"

"So what?" she smiled. "You're an old friend."

I wasn't sure about her emphasis of 'friend' and even less sure when she pressed hard against my erection before breaking away.

"Come and meet some more of your friends," Louisa said, grabbing my hand.

"Later, perhaps, Louisa," I replied, dropping her hand if it was a hot coal. "I've still got two barrow loads to bring and the tent to erect..."

"We'll help with the erection... See you soon." Louisa wiggled her arse as she walked away to join a group of almost every woman I had dated sitting around a campfire drinking coffee. I could hardly keep my eyes away from that group. Some I had difficulty recognising because I had never seen so much of them before and others I had only felt and glimpsed in the dark back seat of a car in Lover's Lane.

I could hear the men folk and see flashes of naked skin as they were jumping into the swimming hole. When we were young it had been the favourite for skinny-dipping because it was isolated and the other swimming place could be seen from the road. As kids we had planted trees and bushes to screen the nearer swimming hole. Those now were an effective screen and the next generation used it for their skinny-dipping. The Chamber of Commerce had raised funds for a real swimming pool so our old place in the woods was unused – until now.

By the time Janie and I had unloaded everything and we had erected the tent with help from a gaggle of naked women I was hot and sweaty. I stripped off and headed for the swimming hole, creeping around the edge of the clearing to avoid close encounters like the one with Louisa. I wasn't sure how I could handle another encounter skin to skin. 

I jumped into the water and gasped as the water was colder than I expected. I surface next to Bill, Louisa's husband.

"Hi, Matt," Bill said, "Good to have you back with us."

He held out his hand. I shook it thinking that I shouldn't have had such thoughts about his wife.

"I think you know everyone," he continued, waving his hand around the pool. I looked. I did. These were the guys I had hung around with in school. They looked a little older but not much. One or two had more flesh on them but that was the only change. Several waved at me. I waved back.

"Bill, how long have you known that this was a nude day event?" I asked.

"Since the beginning. Didn't Janie tell you?"

"No. Not until we were nearly here. Meeting your Louisa was a shock."

"I'll bet it was. She's in great shape, isn't she?"

"Yes, Bill." What else could I say? Could I admit that Louisa had given me a massive boner and pressed her naked body against it?

"You want to watch yourself with Janie. I think I know why she didn't tell you."

"Why? I've no idea."

"She wants to show you off. You know..."

Bill's finger pointed down into the water towards my crotch.

"That?" I asked. "But everyone knows about that. It's no big deal."

"Not to us, it isn't, not now. We were jealous when we were kids but we know, and our womenfolk know, that Matt has the biggest prick in town. Almost all of us are adequate and we don't get complaints. Janie is treating you as a trophy. That ain't good, Matt."

"I suppose not..."

"I shouldn't say this, Matt, but I think Janie is using you."

I should have resented that. I didn't. Bill is an old friend and his warning fitted with the way Janie was behaving. I nodded but made no other reply, hoping that Matt would leave the subject. He didn't.

"Why no woman in your life until Janie?" he asked.

"No time. I was too busy making money," I replied.

"You need to get your priorities right," said Bill. "Come on. We should be helping get the tents up."

I was glad to be busy for a while. Putting the tents up wasn't difficult with so many hands but my eyes were rarely on the tents. There were so many friendly females around who seemed to want to touch me just to be sure I was really there. My massive prick stood out like a flagpole and I was frequently blushing as female eyes were drawn to it. The married ones were blatant. The single girls were discreet but still checked that the stories were true. Janie was close by my side as soon as I had left the swimming hollow and stayed there. Her arm was round my waist or across my shoulder. The message was obvious – 'Hands off! He's mine.'

Bill gave me a wry smile from time to time. Many of the women came up to me despite Janie. Several kissed me, some more than was strictly necessary for greeting a returned friend. Louisa persuaded Janie away for a few minutes. While Janie was gone I had several female bodies pressed hard against me and even a furtive hand, whose I don't know, briefly circled my prick before slipping away into the mass of flesh closely hemming me in. I hoped the attention would diminish because I felt conspicuous with so many women close to me.

Over the women's heads I saw a familiar face, Joe, my old school friend. We had been inseparable until we went to different universities. He was accompanied by a tall attractive blonde with a curvy figure filled in the right places. As they came closer I was startled to recognise his younger sister Helen. Last time I had been aware of Helen she had been all legs with a mouth full of dentist's work. Now...

Joe brushed aside the women like a tanker slicing through a small wave. Helen rode his wake like a surfer. They came to rest facing me.

"Remember Helen?" Joe asked. "She wanted to meet you and see if it's true."

"What's true?" I asked. "Of course I remember Helen but not a Helen looking like a beauty queen." It was a lame line but I was shocked by the change from a gawky kid to a very desirable woman. Her blonde bush flaunted that she was a naturally blonde woman. A woman who was staring at my erection which had sprung to attention as she came close.

"Oh my," Helen said, "You told me, Joe, but I didn't expect so much, nor that it would salute me. It is saluting, isn't it, Matt?"

"Yes." I replied. "What else could it do when it saw you coming?"

The group of women started to drift away. They had seen what I was capable of, and that it had risen instantly to Helen. I had loved Helen the kid sister as a person, but Helen in such a wonderful body was beyond my dreams.

"I want it," Helen announced.

"What!" I couldn't stop myself retorting.

"I want it, and you," Helen added.

"But..."

"But nothing," she said, slipping her arm through mine.

"I came here with Janie..." I protested.

"Don't worry about Janie," said Joe. "She was with me until I went away a couple of weeks ago and collected Helen on the way back. Janie's mine and I'm claiming her back."

"And you are mine," said Helen as Joe moved away.

"Isn't this sudden?" I asked. "Is it just physical?"

Helen's hand grasped my prick firmly and pulled me between two tents.

"This is a bonus. It's attached to the nicest man I know, who was always good to Joe's kid sister. Did you know I've loved you for years?"

"No, I didn't. I loved you but you never said..."

Helen's lips cut me short. Her taut breasts pressed against my chest. Her hand pulled my erection to her bush. She led me away from the campsite to the edge of the woods and pulled me into a small tent.

There she pulled me inside her. I forgot about Janie, about my embarrassment and about everything except pleasing this woman who loved me. We pleased each other the rest of the day and all night. Helen's pussy and lips engulfed my large prick as if she was made for me. She squealed as I used my tongue between her blonde curls before settling down to a long luscious session of sixty-nine.

The day after Nude Day I awoke to a delicious smell of cooked breakfast. My clothes were beside me. I dressed and crawled out of the tent into Helen's arms. She fed me breakfast and coffee as we watched everyone else packing up.

"What happened to Janie?" I asked as I sipped coffee that tasted better than any I had ever had. I think the company had something to do with my appreciation.

"Janie?" Helen said. "She got what she wanted. I'm sure Joe gave her nearly as good a fucking as you gave me last night. She'll make him a good wife if he fucks her often enough. I'll make a good wife to you too, with the same condition."

"I haven't asked you..."

"Slow, aren't you? Well?"

I lifted her up from the ground, stood her up, and dropped to one knee before her.

"Helen, will you marry me?"

Her hands pulled my head against her body. She lifted her skirt to show her bush. I kissed it. I barely heard the 'Yes, Matt' from above as I concentrated on proving how much I loved Helen. The dessert was followed by the good fucking she wanted. As long as my stamina lasts – I've got a wonderful wife.

Pride



His eyes drank her in, from toe to head, as he leaned back in His leather chair. He held up a finger and twirled it in the air, indicating that she should turn for Him. She did so. He altered the light until her full body was bathed in it.

He chose the black pinstripe suit wisely. The slacks had been hemmed so that they skimmed across the tops of the black patent heels He also chose. His eyes slid upward to where the material clung closely to her thighs and curvaceous hips and hugged her ass perfectly. The jacket, which was presently done up with three snaps, fell just below the waistband of her slack and nipped in nicely at her tiny waist. The collar of her tailored white cotton blouse lay open at her neckline and the sleeves peeked out just below the jacket's wrists. He smiled at the taupe polish on her perfectly manicured fingernails.

His eyes moved higher to her face. He admired the make-up that she had chosen. Her dark eyes made even bigger with the black kohl she had outlined them with and each lash well-defined by the strokes she had taken with her mascara. She licked her lips when His eyes fell upon them, full and darkened to a deep burgundy with a hint of shine. On her cheeks, the soft blush she wore under His gaze was colour enough.

And then her hair – that fiery mass of colour. Dark brown and auburn with gold and platinum highlights, styled perfectly in that spiky fashion she so loved to wear.

"Beautiful," He said. "Classy, feminine, elegant...you do me proud, little one," He spoke softly.

She turned again and in a voice equally as soft, she voiced her gratitude, both for the suit and for His admiration of her.

"Now, take the suit off and show me what's underneath, little one," He said, His voice stronger, more urgent.

She swallowed hard and nodded, her throat constricted with emotion. She carefully undid the snaps on her jacket and she slid it off. With the light shining as He had set it, He could see the outline of her breasts under the shirt and felt Himself stiffen.

He handed the hanger to her and she took it and hung the jacket on it. Her hands fumbled with the buttons on her shirt and her jaw clenched in frustration. After what seemed to be an eternity, she slid the shirt off and her nipples hardened instantly as the cool air hit them. She hung the shirt under the jacket and ran her hands over her breasts as she knew He loved to watch her appreciate her own body.

He shifted in His chair as He felt His cock unfold and stretch against the fabric of His jeans. He nodded, waving His hand that she should continue her striptease. She slipped off her shoes and toed them over to the side. She reached behind her to unfasten the back clasp of her pants and undid the zipper. They fell, pooled at her feet and she stepped out of them. She picked them up and hung them on the pant hanger, standing before Him now in only her black silk panties and black sheer stockings.

Her eyes widened as she watched Him unzip His jeans and free His cock from them. She immediately fell to her knees and leaned towards Him. Before her lips reached Him, He grasped her by the hair and tilted her head so that she would look at Him in the eyes.

"No," His voice almost a growl. "This time I want you only to watch the power your body has over me, do you understand?"

"Yes, Master," her voice a chastised whisper as she rose to stand again.

He slowly began to stroke His hand over His length.

She slowly undid the garters and then propped each foot on His knee as she rolled the stockings over her thighs and down her muscular calves. As each leg raised, He could see the damp outline of her heat against the fabric of her panties. He stroked himself faster as she bent to lay the stockings on a nearby chair.

Mesmerized, her eyes remained locked on what He was doing. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and tugged them off. He held His hand out for them and when she handed them to Him, He rubbed the wetness from them onto the length of His cock. He groaned deep in His throat, dropped the panties to the floor and began to stroke Himself harder and faster with her wetness under His hand.

She whimpered, low and deep in her throat. Her hands clenched into fists at her side. He chuckled almost wickedly, knowing how powerless she must feel, how turned on she was. 

His hips began to buck as He felt His balls tighten. He pointed to the floor. "Lay and spread yourself for Me, slut," He growled out.

And as her fingers opened her soft pink petals, He rose from His chair, stood over her and pumped His sweet load all over her. His hot cum sprayed all over her mound, her breasts, her neck and her face. His motions slowed as He squeezed the last Himself onto her and He closed His eyes and took a deep breath.

He walked away from her and returned with a warm, damp cloth. He offered her His hand so that she could stand and began to clean Himself from her. He noticed that her own juices mingled with His against her thighs and this made Him smile. When she was clean, He set the cloth aside and sat back down in His chair, taking her hand and bringing her with Him to sit in His lap.

"Here's your lesson for the day, little one," He spoke gently while He cradled her in his arms. "You can wear the finest suit, the most elegant of dresses, the oldest of jeans and t-shirts but do you know what, little one?." 

"No Sir, what?," she replied in a whisper.

"All that doesn't matter," He ran His hand over her bare body, from her cheek, along her neck, down her chest, along her tummy, cupping her femininity softly. "What matters most to Me is this, what's underneath all the finery, and that what's underneath is Mine."



Pride



Her back was hurting. 

Kate would never admit that of course, but as she waited bent over at the waist, delicate wrists encased in the heavy wooden stocks, it was hard not to notice the tugging ache in the base of her spine.

For the first few hours she had proudly kept her chin up, meeting the eyes of everyone that walked past. Kate had ignored the laughter in their eyes, and pretended not to see the darker lusty looks of some of the men. She had never been one of these people, these simple workers on her Masters property. 

It made no difference that she held no ill will towards them, she was different. Belonging to a powerful Man such as her Master was a double edged sword. Received like nobility by those who by rights should have looked down their long noses at her, but coolly excluded by those who were essentially as much possessions as she was.

The thick leather restraints chafed at her ankles as she tried to adjust her feet for what seemed like the millionth time. The initial outrage and defiance that had kept her slender frame rigid and unyielding had long since dissipated into woeful humiliation. 

These stocks had not been used for a long time, serving mainly as a deterrent to petty thievery and violence within the walls of her Master's home. She was certain her look of pure disbelief when she had learned of her punishment had kept Him amused for most of the day. 

Looking down at the ground, for there was nowhere else to look, she grimaced…her long silken tresses, so carefully tended had long since tumbled into the dirt. Tragically fitting considering her tumble from prized possession to public example. She knew it wasn't right nor fair to think such things, and her pride and logic had been warring endlessly inside her head for as long as she had been restrained like this. 

Footsteps shuffled past and without bothering to lift her head she could tell it was the kitchen women, their not so quite whispers drifting to her ears as they passed snickering and probably pointing…

"Not so precious now is she", "…justice for such a wanton slut".

Their callous words slice through her rapidly weakening armor. Could they be right? Was her Master tired of her? Had He finally grown weary of her proud behavior? Was He even now, planning how to be rid of her? 

Her sharp little teeth worried her bottom lip to the point of bleeding, her mind racing with the awful possibilities. No NO...He couldn't do such a thing, she was proud and sometimes difficult but He had always understood her so completely…transforming her from an untrusting sharp tongued baggage into His own sultry insatiable pet. He knew every inch of her body intimately and could bring her the most intensely erotic pleasure with so little effort. 

She in turn had been beyond eager to learn to please Him, her passionate nature transforming into liquid heat when it came to things of a carnal nature. He had told her time and time again that it was never enough, that He could never tire of her greedy desire to learn more and try anything that might make His pleasure more powerful than the last.

Hot bitter tears threaten to spill across her cheeks, the cruel sting of helpless panic trickling through her. Until she can hear them…heavy even footsteps coming toward her. Trying to calm her heart to at least a steady gallop she sniffs and prepares to sincerely beg and plead for forgiveness.

"Not a word I warn you"

Her Master's gruff voice soaks through her bones like a warm caress. He had come for her. A single tear scalds its way across her cheek with relief. 

The worn chocolaty leather of His boots comes into her view as He stands before her. Silent for so long that she wonders if she should begin to plead for forgiveness, but then He moves. 

Crouching down in front of her, the thick fingers she loves so much pull back the tangled canopy of her hair to see her face. Not daring to lift her eyes she stares at His feet, her cheeks crimson with shame. His warm finger slides underneath her chin, lifting her face up to look at Him. His eyes are like steel, hard and unyielding as they bore into her own sorrowful gaze. 

"Never, make me that angry again. Do you understand?"

His voice matches His eyes, the squeeze of shame on her heart tightening as she nods quickly, silently, careful to not make a sound.

The hardness of His gaze softens a little as He sighs, visibly relaxing as His head cocks to the side. Dark eyes sweep over her face, lingering on the slight tremble of her lip.

"You have something to say?"

Gulping in air to steady herself she wets her dry lips with her tongue.

"Forgive me m'Lord please"

Her voice is halting and rough, both from her long silence and the retreating panic swirling about within her. He studies her for a moment, taking in her disheveled appearance…wide green eyes shiny with tears, the softness of her cheeks crimson with shame and grimy from her day on display. Full sweet lips dry and slightly trembling… His eyes darken slightly as He feels the telltale twinges in His loins. His sweet pet, so open and vulnerable like this. 

Her heart leaps as He stands again before her, wriggling impatiently for release from the heavy restraints. His warm hand rests firmly on her back instead as He walks around her, stroking her skin through the delicate fabric of her gown. 

"You know pretty pet, you look delicious like this, so helpless and… accessible."

Her wriggling stills at His words, her eyes widening as He stops behind her. The blush staining her cheeks darkens with understanding. Her unsure voice stammers out quietly

"M'Lord?"

Bending down to release the wide leather encasing her ankles, he smiles wolfishly to Himself. The thickening length of His erection already beginning to press against the confines of His breeches.

He'd been watching her all day, from the window in His library. Long golden tresses tumbling about her delicate face, the light cotton of her summer gown stretched tantalizingly over her hips and arse. Her pretty little breasts almost visible under the low dip of her neckline. 

So proud and fragile was His girl. He'd seen His people laugh and jibe at her as they passed, watched her gradually deflate over the hours. He knew precisely the moment that she had lost her battle with herself. Content that the lesson was learned He was looking forward to the spoils of such a delicious situation. 

Thick calloused fingers caress her delicate ankles as her legs are freed from their restraints. Gently stroking across the chafed skin, both soothing and stimulating, sending goose flesh prickling up the firm backs of her thighs in anticipation.

Strong hands stroke across her spine as He stands, looking her over intently. A gasp escapes her lips as she feels the soft fabric of her gown bunching in His hands as he draws the fabric up over her pale skin. Exposing her with deliberate slowness, inch by agonizing inch as the delicate cotton is drawn over her hips to rest in the small of her back. His murmur of satisfaction makes her tremble. Wide green eyes dart about the courtyard with embarrassment even as warm slick arousal drips through her.

An unladylike squeak of surprise bursts from her as He kicks her feet further apart. Opening and displaying her to His gaze. Her heartbeat begins to gallop as she feels His strong fingers caressing the soft globes of her arse. Slippery anticipation coating her exposed quim as her nipples pucker and strain against the neckline of her gown. 

His gaze drags down across her arse, to the telltale signs of her arousal. A low hungry growl rumbling through His throat as He presses Himself against her, leaning over her prone form to whisper menacingly in her ear. 

"Do you like being out here, exposed like this my little slut?"

Her eyes flutter closed, embarrassment at her arousal staining her cheeks even as she whimpers and writhes against Him eagerly.

"Anyone could see you, could hear you whimpering to be taken like the wanton pet that you are."

A low needy mewl bubbles from her lips as she feels His fingers lightly graze the slick swelling lips of her cunny. Gently caressing back and forth, teasing her slippery flesh. 

"Would you like them to watch? For them to see me plunging into your tight little body…would you like them to hear you moan and grunt and beg for release?"

His warm velvety voice draws forth another low moan as His thick finger pushes into the slippery entrance of her sex…sawing back and forth only enough to make her hands clench into fists of powerless frustration. The images of the scene He's describing flickering in and out of her mind, hot rushes of shameful delight spilling through her blood at the thought of others seeing her need, her hunger, her passion for this Man. 

The dark fires of His eyes sparkle as her body responds to His teasing and torment. His was such a responsive girl, so dark and naughty in all the right places. The silky wetness of her pussy bathing His finger with her desire. The familiar ache to be inside this delicious creature making His voice drop into almost a growl.

A second finger slides beside the first, both digits pushing firmly inside the wet heat of her pussy as she bucks and gasps. Her belly getting warm and tight with pleasure as they slide back and forth inside her, fucking her with long steady strokes. Her hips move on instinct, pushing back against the delicious intrusion, wanting more. 

"Perhaps I should let them join in…let them mount you right here in the courtyard. Use you for their pleasure, thrust inside your velvety quim and fill you with their eager spunk. Would you like that, my sweet girl?"

A kittenish whimper is her only response as her back arches, her hot breath spilling from her open lips. Little grunts and moans of need slip out instinctively. The shame-filled girl of before replaced with her Masters writhing eager pet. Her slender hips pulsing and rocking, craving for more...throbbing for more.

"Perhaps, but not today my darling slut, today I want you all to myself. Your delicious body has been tempting me wickedly all day and I would have my fill of you. The only question is where…?"

With that His slippery fingers retreat from her heat, a raw moan of protest rumbling from her only to spill into a thick growl of pleasure as the slick digits slide across the tight pucker of her ass. Circling and pressing on her sensitive flesh, heat coiling in her belly with every movement.

"Where will it be my wicked girl? Hmm? Shall I squeeze in here? Where its dark and exquisite. Let your tender arse squeeze and clench around my cock until it bursts? Mmm…I cum so hard in Your ass Katie… and you scream so sweet."

Writhing and whimpering…His wicked words drive her senses into a frenzy. Her toes curl in frantic anticipation… her body aching with need. She hisses as His touch returns to the throbbing slickness of her pussy. Rubbing and probing at the sensitive entrance as His low growls of promise drift across her back.

"Perhaps I should push inside your pretty quim? Pound you into these sturdy stocks and fill your belly with my cum. Would you like that baby? Do you want me to cum in here…?"

His thick finger curls inside her, rubbing at the delicate tissues inside her molten pussy until she mewls piteously. Trembling and writhing against His hand without thought. 

With a wicked smile He reaches underneath her, tearing the delicate cotton of her gown down to free her pale breasts. His fingers deftly find the dusky nipples straining and aching for attention. Tugging and pinching at the sensitive peaks drinking in each wanton moan…taking each hiss of desire deep inside Himself. 

"tell me what you want pretty slut. Tell me what you need Kate"

With a raw cry she answers babbling quickly…

"You m'Lord please, deep inside me. Make me scream please, I'll squeeze Your beautiful cock so tight, make Your legs shake with pleasure. Anywhere You wish, take my cunt, in my ass I don't care which, only please please…I beg You…please I need You inside me please Master"

His fingers tighten like vices on her aching nipples as He fights for some semblance of restraint. She knew exactly how to do this, He'd never had to teach her. The words, the dark, needful words to drive Him to frenzy drift from her sweet and girly lips making all sense of sanity melt in a kind of steamy explosion. His cock already rock hard and throbbing for her twitches and strains against its confines. With a thick sigh of relief He frees it from the leather breeches, pressing the scalding heat against her silky flesh.

The first touch of His scalding skin against her flesh sends waves of molten anticipation through her, until even her fingertips feel as though they are burning. A needful cry strangles past her lips as He presses the velvety head against her dripping quim. Pushing only the head inside her welcoming heat before steadying His stance, gripping a handful of her golden hair roughly and growling at her…

"Who do you belong to Kate? Tell me…"

Her head turns, green eyes burning into His own as she answers.

"You, only You Master."

His hips crash forward, thrusting the stony length of His cock deep inside her. The slick walls of her pussy forced to stretch around Him, stinging deliciously. 

"Mine" 

His voice is thick with want, drowning out her hiss of pleasure, His hips withdrawing only to push back inside her, again and again in a hungry rhythm. His fist tugging and pulling at her hair sends prickly tingles of pleasure from her scalp directly to her straining clit. Forgetting their location, their passion so exposed, her senses swim with the sultry tide of her Master as she mewls and writhes against Him. His possession of her neither savage nor gentle, His thick fingers gripping her hips with bruising intensity, jolting her back onto every thrust. 

Each scalding thrust of His rigid cock inside her causes the clenching heat in her belly to tighten, making her throb, ache for the release she knew He would grant her. Tight coiling pleasure making her legs tremble as He pushes her closer and closer to the edge of her pleasure. Ragged gasps for breath stammer from her lips as her heartbeat roars in her ears with the rhythm of their mating. 

Goddd…so fucking hot…she was so hot and tight and so bloody hungry for Him. His aching cock gripped tightly with each thrust inside her molten pussy, dragging low primal grunts and noises from His throat as He sinks inside her again and again. Taking and claiming and drinking in her heat like a starving Man. With a tilt of her hips His angle of penetration changes, making His eyes roll back in His head as He fights not to spill inside her. Determined to wrangle her pleasure first, to feel her frantic muscles fluttering around His rampant cock as He takes her. 

With a low moan, she feels His fingers drag from one Hip down to cup her mound. The thick digits sliding between her passion swollen lips to still at the place where their bodies join. Caressing both her and Himself as His rigid cock plunges inside her, a thick groan of pleasure rumbling from His chest as He feels His cock slide into her slick flesh. Her body grinding and writhing against Him in wanton splendor as He fucks her.

She cries out as His fingers slide back to circle her straining bud. Teasing her mercilessly as she bucks and growls, her body burning from the inside out at the mercy of His desire. Her pleasure so intense it borders on painful as she gasps and pleads hoarsely. 

"Please Master, please….. Please Master…let me cum for You"

His fingers are firm and unyielding as they pluck at the straining bundle of nerves. Her body bucking and jolting beneath His touch. He groans as He feels her pussy sucking and tightening around His cock in anticipation and roars across her back.

"Cum, Cum for me Kate!"

With a strangled sob she relaxes enough to unleash the aching tightness in her belly, scalding pleasure erupting from His touch…slicing through her belly as she shrieks out her release. The clenching walls of her pussy grip His cock like a fist as she writhes and mewls, awash in the heat of her release. So full, so deliciously full and possessed, she cannot control the trembling as she rocks. Babbling and chanting His name, her body spasming and bucking against Him, making His thrusts erratic as her body sucks Him closer and closer to His own release.

With a raw cry His thrusts become harder, impaling her relentlessly. His face contorting almost as if in pain. Plunging inside her, His fingers dig savagely into the soft skin at her hip. Finally, with a strangled roar, He allows His own release to come scorching through Him. Jet after jet of hot release burns a path inside her clenching walls. His body shudders, muscles locked in tension as His cock pulses inside her. Gasping as He empties Himself in her welcoming body.

Strong arms, damp with sweat curl around her belly as she struggles to control her breathing, comforting and possessive as He relaxes against her. Pressing her into the solid weight of the stocks and slowly reminding her of where they are. A shudder of something dark and liquid drips through her as she realizes she doesn't care. Let them look. Her back straightens proudly underneath her Master as she feels their combined release dribbling down the inside of her thigh. Her body humming with pleasure and pride at who she is.

He lifts His head when He feels her stiffen underneath Him. Ready for her embarrassment and shame at being so completely taken in such a public place. Pleasure seeps through Him as He watches her gaze drift over the courtyard, a proud, defiant smile visible on her lips as she turns her head. He presses soft chaste kisses against the strength of her spine and chuckles.

"My magnificent, surprising girl."

Tilting her head with surprise she looks at Him. Her face openly glowing for Him, green eyes sparkling with so much more than lust. His voice caresses her as He stares into her face.

"Let's get you out of these, I find I want you all to myself."



Pride



"Pride," observed Mary, who piqued herself upon the solidity of her reflections, "is a very common failing I believe."

Mary Hadley, a thirty three year old brunette was sitting on the sofa in her aunt's front parlour at the time, waiting for her husband to return from taking their oldest daughter, Angela to boarding school. 

"Was Angela too prideful to remain in day school, then?" Jane responded, looking up at her niece through steely grey pupils. 

"No, you know that John and I need some time alone."

"Does Angela know?" Jane queried, scrutinising Mary carefully, taking in the dark midi length skirt, the prim blouse, the conservative black stockings and those terribly boring, sensible shoes.

"John will explain it all to her." Mary said thinking how John was so much better than Mary at explaining things. It was a no-brainer, him taking Angela to the school. He would explain it all in the car. 

Mary was sure that John could make boarding school sound like heaven to their eleven year old daughter. She hoped he would be discrete. In actual fact Mary's nerves could not take any more of the girl's clumsy ways and she was more than happy to follow the family tradition of boarding schools. 

John had been far more reluctant, but Mary would brook no argument. Angela was going and that was all there was to it. Mary wanted another child and Angela was simply in the way. She was ready and John had just had the most enormous pay rise, so that they could afford both the boarding school fees and re-equipping the nursery. 

It had been very good of Jane to put them all up while the house was redone, particularly so, since Jane lived so much closer to the school than Mary. The visit had provided a wonderful cover, as Angela loved her Auntie Jane dearly and always really enjoyed any stay at Primrose Cottage. 

And after another two weeks of hot sex with John, Mary was bound to be back to that wonderful state of motherhood she had felt when carrying Angela.

"Will he really?" Aunt Jane replied, putting down her knitting and gazing across at the young mother quite sharply. "I see. Now do tell me more about pride."

"By all I have ever read, I am convinced that pride is very common indeed and that human nature is particularly prone to it, and that there are very few of us who do not cherish a feeling of complacency on the score of some quality or other."

"And what comes after pride?" Jane queried, already feeling slightly irritated by her garrulous niece, but maintaining a neutral tone.

"A fall, I suppose."

"Are you proud of your discourse?"

"I am pleased to have set down my opinion."

"Do you have lots of other qualities to entertain me and my little circle with?" Aunt Jane added dangerously.

"I have lots of other qualities," Mary beamed innocently. "It comes with the prospect of motherhood."

Mary looked towards the window. She could see that the first Dog Roses were flowering in the hedge, although the petals were still furled and pink. She thought about how she used to play in the back garden here as a child. In early June the Spotted Orchids would be starting to appear on the boggy ground before you reached the open fields that backed onto the cottage garden. And, she recalled, over the back hedge in the short turf, a white foam of Heath Bedstraw would be joining the lilac spikes of Heath Speedwell. 

And, yes, down by the stream, where livestock would have churned a patch of red clay to exactly the right consistency by now, half a dozen swallows would be circling, landing, taking up beakfuls of clay to build their nests, getting ready for motherhood.

"You are quite a vain creature, aren't you?" 

Jane's rather abrupt and sardonic comment brought Mary out of her reverie.

"No I am proud of who I am. Vanity and pride are very different things, though the words are often used synonymously."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. A person may be proud without being vain."

"Are you proud without being vain?"

"I try to be. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves, vanity to what we would have others think of us."

"And what should I think of you?"

"I would like to think you were proud of your niece as she considers adding to her family."

"So those of us not blessed with your rutting abilities are devoid of this sense of pride?"

"I didn't say that, Jane."

"No. I said it. And do please remember who you are talking to."

"Why do you insist on this ridiculous notion of being my "Aunt Jane"? You are only three years older than me."

"Am I not your aunt?"

"You are."

"Is my name not Jane?"

"It is."

"Then logic dictates that I am your Aunt Jane, does it not?"

"I suppose it does."

"Then kindly employ a little common sense and do try to please your hostess," Jane snapped. "It is good manners after all; and I believe you pride yourself in those."

"I do."

"Well then?"

There was a pause while Mary considered whether to make this concession. Jane stared at her niece fixedly as the younger woman put her tea cup down and clasped her hands in her lap. Jane could see that Mary was stealing herself to make this little surrender and smiled encouragingly. 

"Sorry... Aunt Jane."

"That's much better, Molly. Now where were we?"

"Molly -- what do you mean 'Molly'?"

"That was always my pet name for you; don't you remember?"

"I remember it only too well," Mary shuddered, recalling the sharp sound of Jane's voice summoning her to the study that Mary's father had vacated for the student some fifteen years before: the study that had become Jane's little playground and Mary's version of teenage hell, after Jane caught her necking and more with John late one night. 

"Well, you will always be Molly to me."

"I would prefer it if you used my proper name."

"Molly is a very proper name. Your step father loved it. What did Robert used to call you -- Millie- Molly-Mandy?"

Mary shuddered again.

"I always thought your step father to be a perfect gentleman -- so discrete in taking his pleasures. And he did leave me this lovely cottage. I never understood how you could dislike Robert so."

"He was a wicked, wicked man," Mary practically exploded in her anger. "I was so glad when John took me away and married me abroad away from the whole pack of you."

"You broke your mother's heart."

"I didn't mean to."

"And yet, you succeeded admirably."

Mary dabbed at her eyes, feeling tearful. She hated herself for what she had done and yet she had had to get away. It wasn't her fault.

"I was very sorry that you were cut out of the will as a result of your acting so in haste, but naughty girls who run away have to take the consequences."

"I am pleased you got the cottage, Aunt Jane. John has enough for us."

"Your grimace when you say that betrays your lie."

"I didn't mean to cause any offense, Aunt Jane."

"I'm afraid my friends are very sensitive to falsehoods such as that, Molly, especially when they come from naughty little girls like you."

"I am not a naughty little girl," said Mary blushing furiously. "I am a married woman and a mother."

"And a very naughty girl too, at least that's what I've heard your husband say."

"When on earth did he say that?"

"It was last night just as you got into bed, I believe."

"Have you been spying on us?"

"No, but the walls in this house are very thin; and your naughty giggle does rather carry."

"How dare you!" Mary almost shouted at her aunt and got up from the sofa glowering, arms akimbo, preparing to storm out of the room.

"I was trying to read a chapter of Charles de Montesquieu's Spirit of Laws at the time. I found your noisy sex play most irritating."

Mary blushed.

"I could not help but agree with Monsieur Charles when he wrote: 'It would be a very happy thing in an aristocracy if the people, in some measure, could be raised from their state of annihilation', having to put up with your amoral annihilation in the background."

"I am sorry Aunt Jane."

"I should think so too; but sorry is really not enough. I will certainly have to do something about it, before you are too much older. I should never have allowed that wretched man to kiss your neck, all those years ago."

"It was a jolly good kiss; and he is a splendid lover not a wretched man."

"He is certainly a noisy lover," Jane commented dryly.

Mary hid her face in her hands, growing tearful at the shame of Jane's onslaught.

"And I do believe he reiterated his insinuations about your naughtiness as he reached his climax, did he not?"

Mary nodded her head dumbly, but said nothing. 

"I do sometimes wonder at your hypocrisy, young lady," Jane continued, looking up briefly at her niece and then back to her pattern book to check the count for her next row.

"My hypocrisy?"

"Naughty by night and aspirant Madonna by day -- how do you sustain such breathless double standards."

"Everybody is entitled to their privacy."

"Every adult may be."

"I am an adult. I am thirty three."

"So you are dear; so you are: thirty three and still having the same tantrums, as when you were eighteen."

"You provoke me so, auntie."

"You always were tantrum prone. I remember having to take stern action when I lived with your family before going to college."

Mary remembered it too. She remembered the way Jane used to reduce her to tears with her whiplash words and worse. Jane had made Mary's eighteenth year quite miserable at times by treating her like a juvenile delinquent. Mary could recall Jane shouting up the stairs and ordering her down to the study evening after evening and the worst days when Mary refused and Jane would send her step-father, Robert up to fetch her.

She remembered the harsh lectures and the slow clearing of the desk. She recalled the bending and the hiking of her skirts. She recollected the way she was sometimes compelled to choose the instrument of chastisement that Jane would use on her naughty little 'bot-bot'. And all those memories excited her terribly!

"My cross little niece -- you haven't learnt have you, Molly, my sweetheart?"

"Perhaps not, Aunt Jane," Mary conceded, smiling despite herself at the endearment.

"Now come over here and sit on the footstool. I would like you to help me wind my wool just like you used to."

"Yes, auntie."

"That's a good girl. We can let the adults have the nice chairs when they come round to tea later."

"The adults?"

"Yes. My friends: Megan Richards and Freda de Las Casas."

"Oh no; why didn't you tell me you were inviting them?"

"Because, Molly; naughty little girls are not generally consulted when auntie makes her arrangements for jolly soirees with her friends. Are they?"

"I'm not naughty."

"I have already given you three proofs of your naughtiness and yet you persist. You are a very stubborn, naughty little girl, Molly."

"I am not so."

"Mrs. Richards and Senora de Las Casas might provide a fourth proof and more."

"Megs and Freddie..." Mary paused seeing the stern look her aunt was giving her. She quailed inside: "Mrs. Richards and the Senora would say anything you asked of them."

"Given Mrs. Richards was your sixth form teacher when you were the most mischievous girl in class and the Senorita the midwife who sorted you out when you failed singularly to take precautions prior to your flight to Gretna Green, I feel a certain amount of respect is due to them, Molly."

"It's been years since I saw either of them," Mary retorted petulantly.

"I doubt if they've forgotten your extremely bad behaviour then. Your mother, bless her soul, let you get away with murder."

"And sent me away to boarding school for years and years," Mary grumbled

"As you presumably plan to do with Angela?"

Mary was speechless, caught bang to rights.

"Why do you think you were sent away? Or do you think it was just coincidence?"

"I've never really thought about it."

"Petulant and thoughtless: I see the school did not serve you as well as your mother hoped."

"I'm not thoughtless. Stop taking my words out of context, auntie."

"I'm proving a point to you, Molly."

"And what point is that?"

"That you are a very naughty little girl."

"If you say so, auntie," Mary sighed, giving in again. Mary was quite amazed at the discomposure her aunt's repeated insinuations still caused her; but amongst other causes of disquiet, she dreaded the way that Jane seemed to be taking control of Mary's life again. What had she meant by doing something about John? Oh why hadn't she told him to be quieter and why was she, herself, so commonly anxious to please her mother's youngest sister. 

"When you were invited here, what did you expect?" 

"I don't know what you mean, auntie?"

"Besides using this as a packing off post for Angela on the way to that wretched boarding school -- and she will have bad memories of this house and my apparent betrayal because of that -- yes you may well blush, Molly; I do know you intended to use the back bedroom for your uxorious pleasures, and it really was too bad when you faulted my arrangements and moved Angela out of there and yourselves in there."

"But you gave John and me the little children's bedrooms."

"That is because you are both little children, Molly; and you do have shown this by your disrespect at my carefully ordered arrangements, resulting in my having a sleepless night as you seemed to wish to copulate through to dawn."

"I can't help loving my husband."

"I can't help wishing your love was a little more discrete. Take your step-father for instance..."

"Never"

"That was your loss. I took him and he was wonderful. Robert had me over that very sofa you are sitting on." 

"Ugh!" Mary stood up and looked at the sofa with distaste.

"Sit down and don't make a scene." 

"I'm sorry, but you shouldn't try to shock me so."

"You are far less easily shocked than you would have me believe, child." 

"Even so..."

"Even so, I believe that your step daddy was all excited by the way I had caned you for the first time. Do you remember?"

"I do remember you caning me," Mary said frostily.

"And you deserved it. All that secretive kissing with John in the field -- as if you were grazing cattle: such utterly shameless bovine behaviour." "And you being fucked over the sofa by your sister's husband is better?"

"Such naughty language: I may have to wash your mouth out with soap for that later Millie Molly Mandy."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Don't test me child. You know better than that. And you know that I had to cane you very hard to excite him. In fact I had to use far more force than I would have wished just to make sure your step-daddy needed to have his willy feel nice." 

"No wonder he was so eager to drag me from my room for you to brutalise."

"You loved every moment of it, Molly: from the first command to strip to letting your warm cunny come in your auntie's cupped hand like a good little girl. And your step father loved watching his little Millie Molly being introduced to Sapphic pleasure." 

"How could you!"

"I think you enjoyed it most of all when Auntie used to take her panties off and put them in your mouth so that your mummy wouldn't hear just how her naughty little girl was being punished." Mary blushed again and started to tear up.

"I very reasonably hoped to have all my expectations of pleasure realised, having ascertained that your dear darling step-daddy was a lusting oaf who craved his little Millie Molly," Jane continued relentlessly.

"I can't bear this."

"And yet you seem eager to hear more, Molly. Does it excite your naughty girly place?"

"Yes, auntie."

"Does it make your cunny-wunny all dampy-wampy?"

"Yes, it does."

"And does Molly like auntie making her pussy-wussy all moisty-woisty?"

"Oh auntie! Can your little girl come?"

"Don't be so nasty, young lady. A scheme in which every part promises delight can never be successful."

"But Auntie Jane..."

"General disappointment will only be warded off by the defence of some little peculiar vexation."

"Are you vexed now, Auntie Jane?" Asked Mary, looking rather perplexed at Jane's decision to hold her there, little realising that by accepting the restraint she was allowing herself to be seduced into obedience. But, as Mary looked towards Jane, who was now engaged with the complicated knitting pattern again, she began to suspect that every power of pleasing would fail her, real or imaginary, when it came to Jane's insidious demands. 

"I was certainly vexed last night with your rather exaggerated propensity for little Johnnie's willy. Do you think it would make his willy hard to see you being spanked by Auntie Jane? What would you say to him? Tell auntie all about it."

"I'd say 'is your willy hard now, John'," Mary said quietly looking down at her shoes guiltily, embarrassed to the hilt.

"Whose willy, Molly?"

"Johnnie's willy, auntie."

"See, you can be a good little girl, but do look at the wool. I don't want it getting all twisted. Tell me all about Johnnie's little willy."

"It's not little."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"You are not going to see my husband's willy."

"Such a selfish girl!"

"I'm not selfish. He's my husband."

"He's my guest -- my disobedient guest too. A naughty little boy who deserves to have Auntie Jane pull his pyjama trousers down and to be taken over auntie's lap." 

"You wouldn't... would you?" Mary looked up at her aunt tremulously, already knowing the answer.

"What would you do to stop me, Molly?" Jane countered. "I think you are finding this very arousing."

"I am not so."

"Pull your skirt up and show me that your panties aren't damp then. If you do it nicely Auntie Jane will let you put your hands in your panties while she tells you a very naughty story."

"A very naughty story. auntie?"

"Yes. One to entertain us both while I knit the sleeve of nice cardigan; And I know you like your bedtime stories, Molly."

"I'm not going to bed, Aunt Jane."

"Little girls need their afternoon naps."

"But, I don't want to go to bed."

"I'll bring Mrs. Richards up to see you after tea. She may even bring her nice big toy willy for you to play with and so you can make her feel nice, just like she did when you were an innocent sixth former. Little Johnnie would love to hear that story I'm sure. It might even make his little cocky big and hard for auntie to play with."

"You wouldn't!" Mary blanched. 

"You do remember don't you, Molly? Would auntie telling that story get you into terrible trouble with your dear loving hubby? Would he like to know how his virginal wife-to-be was so especially nice to Mrs. Richard's nice wet hole, in her lovely sixth form school uniform underneath her teacher's desk? You know Mrs. Richards used to tell me how nice it felt. She loved the way Hadley Major could be so obedient, slipping her school knickers down and handing them to her teacher for the famous Richards' collection." 

"Oh my god!"

"Do not blaspheme girl."

"Sorry auntie."

"And you know what else Molly?"

"No, auntie."

"Apparently Mrs. Richards used to love sitting back and spreading her legs after you'd taken her grown-up panties down. She loved watching you bend your head down and blush, before using both your hands to part the sex lips; and, most of all, she loved the way you would press your face against her mound - the smooth skin of your cheek and the hot wet little tongue starting to lick around the sensitive puckered skin surrounding her womanly cunt. Wouldn't hubby like to know what a naughty little lesbian schoolgirl you were once, Molly Hadley?"

"No, he would not." 

"Your blush gives the lie to that, pet. And I'll bet he would like to know how your clever little kisses landed on Mrs. Richard's cunny and how that wicked little tongue entered your teacher with its hot slippery-slappery tip lapping and probing, making all sorts of rude sucky and slurpy noises?"




Pride



"It did not."

"I do have a recording you know, sweetheart. Mrs. Richards has always been very amenable to my requests, given the girls I sent to her for improvement."

"You've let her use other girls?"

"Does that make you a teensy-weensy bit jealous then? Did you think you were so special licking your teacher's cunty, so preciously and precociously?"

"I didn't know there were others."

"And yet the thought seems to make you want to masturbate even harder -- look at your naughty fingers playing in your panties -- no shame whatsoever."

"I was only doing it to please you, auntie."

"I'm not entirely sure that is the whole truth, Molly. Perhaps I should ask your husband to come home right now."

"You wouldn't!"

"I most assuredly would, were I minded to. And if he were to come in here right now, Molly? I might have to say look at her, Johnnie! Look at her! See how naughty she is: masturbating for her auntie! Showing everything off! I wouldn't blame Johnnie if he wanted to punish his naughty girl himself. She deserves it! The wicked girl! The way she led her teacher on! And her step daddy! Showing everything as she led them on! Showing them everything whilst she was punished! And I would have to tell Johnnie just how a hard a naughty little girl's bottom needs to be punished to make her good! Come on, Molly! Come for auntie! That's how we start! Come for Auntie good and hard!"

"Ooooooh Auntie, Auntie Jane; you make Molly feel ever so naughty," cried Mary, her fingers digging into her sex, as she rubbed and frigged herself to orgasm, her eyes closed and the ball of wool rolling on the floor where Mary had dropped it sometime before. 

There was a pause while Mary recovered herself and pulled her hand out of her knickers. She opened her eyes and saw Jane staring at her and then at the wool unwinding its way across the parlour floor. Her were lips pursed, but there was a twinkle in her grey eyes, as she shook her head and started to speak again as if nothing had happened: 

"No I'm not vexed, Molly; but you really shouldn't have made those accusations earlier and you shouldn't be such a wicked, impudent and impatient little girl. You know where this will lead you, don't you?"

"To the study, auntie," Mary whispered and trembled, half fearful and half excited.

"I hate to disappoint you but the study is a long way to go to chastise a naughty little girl like you, Molly. I think you might wish to put that wool down and come and lie over Auntie's lap, like a good girl, don't you Molly?"

Mary looked up at Jane with a resigned look in her eyes. Jane put her knitting down on the side table and patted her lap, tugging her tweed skirt down. 

Then she sat back and watched as Mary leant forward and slid over Jane's lap obediently, hiking her own skirt as she slid, remembering just how hard Auntie Jane liked to spank her naughty little girl and just how proud auntie was of all the marks she made...



Pride & Performance



Gorgeous. Fantastic. Heaven on Earth.

Two middle-aged women, buck naked, pleading with me. Their bodies shaking, their fat tits pushed forward by their quivering arms, their cunt bushes dripping as they begin to wet themselves. All mine, to do with as I want.

Their clothes are a quarter-mile away, beside the fat SUV they'd been driving. It belonged to Cassie's son, Cassie the park boss's wife, Cassie with the hips as wide as a barn door. Hips I am going to split and get between, very soon. The son was "away on holiday", so it had been no trouble to plant some dope and catch the women on their way to the lake. A search of the vehicle found my evidence and I had them up against the side of the SUV while I patted them down. Slowly. Then I went heavy, shouted a lot, said they were shitty dope dealers but had one chance to clear their names. Lottie almost fainted. She was the mayor's wife, and scandal would cost her that fat salary and big swing on the veranda. Lottie had huge tits though she rarely showed them. That was going to change!

"You've just one chance, my beauties!" I yelled. "Let me search you here and now, and if you're clean you're out of here!" They nodded nervously. I moved in on them, jamming them against the fender, pushing my belly into Cassie's crotch. "Otherwise it's off to the slammer and the whole town knows you're busted!" They should have said no but they were too shocked and intimidated. A tear ran down Lottie's cheek. Good sign!

I turned to Cassie first - the stronger one. Break her down and Lottie would be lost. "Get out of that dress," I hissed from two inches, my voice lower but more menacing. Her head shook and her lips framed the word no, but before she could speak I grabbed the dress front and ripped it open. "Now the rest!" I roared. Her fingers obeyed on their own. "Out of those panties!" With shaking hands she pushed them down a few inches but they stuck on her fat ass. I tore at them and the fabric shredded, leaving her hairy cunt open to the air. She was too stunned to cover it. "Lose the bra." This time she did obey and trembling thumbs opened the clasp. I pulled it off her and pushed her back onto the SUV's door. "Spread 'em!" I yelled, then roughly pulled at her fat thighs and dinky little tits.

"Now you!" to Lottie. She had no will to resist and her summer dress, bra and panties were soon on the ground. I was more gentle with her, letting my hands linger between her ass cheeks and under her breasts.

Next threat was the cavity search. They both blushed bright red when I told them and begged me not to. I pretended to think about it. "Well, I haven't found anything on you but I have to check in you," I began. "But maybe I won't have to stick my fingers inside. There's a old cabin up on the ridge. If you run up there and nothing falls out, I might think you're clean." No way, of course, but they were too scared to realise. I made them run on the spot first, describing their figures in bare-assed detail, telling Cassie to lift her knees higher and Lottie to lean back - I thought her tits would fall off, they hit her ribs so hard. Then I told them to run ahead of me.

The sway of Lottie's huge tits and the quiver of Cassie's buttocks gave me a hard-on so big I could hardly run, but we reached the cabin without a spill. The women implored me (Lottie on her knees) but I was too hot to stop. How else can you get your finger up a rich woman's asshole? Especially when she's such a stuck-up bitch? I shoved them inside the door and dragged it shut behind me. It wasn't dark inside - half the roof had ripped away in a storm - but the walls were still up and there was no place to run.

I advance on Cassie and push my finger onto her cunt. She goes on tiptoe to avoid me so I grab her chin. She flinches at my touch but I stick a thumb into her crack, then a finger too. She struggles and wriggles. "What have we here?" I shout triumphantly, then draw a little bag of white powder out of her cunt. "So that's where you hide it!" She's on the floor now, grovelling, clutching my legs, piss dribbling from her troubled cunt. "No, no! I don't know how it got there." I push her down and cuff her hands behind her. Lord, how her asscheeks shake! Then I turn to Lottie.

She backs away until there's nowhere left to move. She's howling like a baby, tears flooding down her face. I think of bukkake. No - not gonna waste it! "Suck my Actionman, princess!", scorn in my voice. Her hands shake too much so I get my cock out for her. She sucks greedily, in desperation, and I grab a handful of each flabby tit and squeeze joyfully.

A squawk from Cassie brings me to. "It was planted! You planned it all!" "That's right, cherub," I confirm, "but it's too late to protest. You're on Candid Camera!" I point to a doorpost with my chin, reluctant to unhand a tit. A radiocamera is recording the action. "You're gonna be a movie star in your own community," I jeer, "unless I enjoy myself enough. On your knees, Beautiful! Time I probed your ass!"

Cassie doesn't want to, but I make Lottie lie under her. That way, her ass is up and Lottie's tits are in reach. I pull Cassie's asscheeks open and push at her butthole with my cock, but she is dry as an old well and I get nowhere. Forethought pays off here, for I've hidden some motor grease and a hunk of that round her rim soon gets me past the muscle. She's tight as a new vest's buttonhole, but I ease deeper and deeper, digging my fingers into her lovejugs. I slowly slide out, then I slowly slide back in. This is heaven on Earth!

I hear a moaning and realise it's Lottie. The fuck-pressure is heating her up. I don't change my rhythm but the ambition is different. I move one hand to Lottie's quaking boob. Her face gets redder as I increase the pace. Cassie is howling now - wonderful! She'll do anything to avoid another buttfuck! I change gear and slam into her, hammering into her assring. My cock is firing like a piston and slabs of jism are pouring out with each stroke. Cassie is shrieking and Lottie is bawling. I collapse atop of them both, my cock trapped inside Cassie's poopchute.

I must have passed out, because when I come to they're both struggling to breathe. I'm a heavyweight cop, you know. I drag myself off then roll Cassie clear. "Lick me clean", I tell her, smearing my cock over her face, "It's going into your friend's hotbox." Cassie shuts her mouth, but I wipe most of the shit off onto her cheeks and neck. Then I crawl over to Lottie.

She is on her back, legs spread, panting. I lie my cock between her tits and squeeze. Fantastic! her boobs are soft and hard at the same time, and I'm soon rigid again. I slither downwards and position my cock against her cuntlips. A gentle push and I'm in. This one is hot to trot! I build up a rhythm, kissing her fat boobs, rocking away for minute after minute. Lottie whimpers, then murmurs (her face is red again) then screams and wraps her legs round my fat waist. She shudders and shakes but I go on ramming. Another minute and she's cumming again, then again. Her head goes back, her eyes roll. She's screaming "Deeper! Harder!" I increase my pace, my climax getting nearer. Her cuntlips grip my cock as the friction swells them up. A spasm grips my balls and I cum again, with less force this time, but longer surges. This Lottie is one hell of a fuckdoll!

Then I move fast again, so they can't recover. They're both on disk being degraded and I'll email clips to friends if they don't stay dumb. I smile, then remind them what fun it was and how I might want a second helping. Cassie goes white and Lottie goes red. I shoo them out of the cabin, asscheeks shaking, tits pounding, and send them into the woods. I scoot back down to the SUV, rip their dresses into shreds and stuff their underwear into the tailpipe. It's going to be a cold, sticky, embarrassing drive home. Better hope nobody sees them! I wouldn't want to share my loveducks with anyone else!



Pride and Prejaculation



When Joe and I met, it was fun. Especially the getting to know each other, first as friends and then later as lovers.

All went good at first. We spent some joyous times together and had lots of fun. It seemed like a voyage of discovery with lots of for-play added. Out intimate wanting and things that turned each of us on the most began to set in, until we pretty well knew how to pleasure each other.

I have always been more on the feminine side I would say. For me to have another guy inside me was my aim and I longed for the opportunity to arise.

I never did have the urge to fuck a woman or a guy because my gentiles have always been small and I have always thought I should really have been a woman.

But I have never thought about changing my sex or anything like that. It wouldn't be the same you see. I discovered when I met Joe my true sexuality when, physically and emotionally I was drawn to a member of my own sex.

But when Joe and I first indulged I was crucially embarrassed about my small gentiles and it took me quite a while to relax and let him see me.

I guess the gentle persuasive touch of his wandering hands slowly coaxed me and I felt something there, even although it was a half mast effort I began to enjoy his passion sucking. That was nice and although I knew I couldn't have got stiff enough to do anything I was so relieved when he confided, he was happy the way things were.

He said there was something very sensual about seeing me in skin tight brush jeans looking like a woman because of the absence of any noticeable maleness there.

He said he rather liked that. It was good to have a guy he could love that resembled a girl so much and when he started to fondle my rear the way he did, I was all his.

"You look divine in jeans" he said and I started to realise just how sexual that could be, and how much I was stimulated by his touch, both by hand and the feel of his nose and mouth sniffing and licking into the crotch of my jeans.

He loved that. He loved me to bend over on all fours and enjoy me that way. He would even simulate the fucking which was nice, the feel of his wonderful masculinity probing me there.

He made me want to be all ass for him and I knew eventually where it was leading.

And I wanted that. It was a first experience for us both to make it with another guy so the newness of it all was so very thrilling.

"I think it is time to take these right off he said after a couple of times he'd reached a climax into my jeans. Before that we'd just been sucking and wanking each other. I was able to reach a climax even though I could not raise a proper erection and that was always nice and very stimulating. It took a time though compared with the speed Joe delivered his cream into my hand but he was patient and seemed happy enough to suck my ass as he continued. That was divine too, when he first introduced me to the utter joy of tongue probing. 

I never ever thought that could have got me going in such a passionate extravagance. It was beautiful. I was so revved up and he knew it. With one hand tending to my cock and balls his other was stretching my ass so wide apart it felt like it would split. He enjoyed nudging and slapping each cheek at a time. Then there would be some more sniffing and tasting. He seemed he could just not get enough of my scent. He said the taste was good too.

I was so looking forward to that very first fuck when I could feel the length and quality of that well sucked and tended cock plunge into me.

When sucking and licking him up, watching the way it grew so big as I spent lots of time teasing and stretching it back. He soon came always and I had soon got the knack of waiting for the spurt, imagining it was spurting into me at full throttle, deep into my ass.

But although I craved for it he did not seem to want to. Either that or I was relieving him too soon and he was happy to go along with that. Because by the time I had given him a real good spoiling he was exhausted, except just to lick me up. He said that was soothing afterwards and I had a great tasting ass. I began to wander why it was, was it pride or something, did he think somehow he was too good to just go for it and fuck me?

I intended to find out .Because I knew I could not go on like this. I wanted his cock inside me. I was no longer prepared just to suck and wank and let him full my mouth with his spunk. To let him take movies of his doing that so he could watch later.

"I want to Alex, I really do. You have a very fuckable ass but I always cum too soon, and have lost the urge by the time we have enjoyed each other in every other way..

I did not know if to suspend certain features just to get him to keep that erection and not reach a premature ejaculation all the time or try something else I had read about online.

The trouble was I was a much to blame, for when I really got going with Joe I was like a proverbial animal. We were both like that and enjoyed each other to the full.

But with one exception, That veritable probe into my being, so that I could feel the quality of his fuck inside me.

But even then I was thinking; what if he cums just after he'd got inside me and left me in the lurch. What then? It would spoil everything and maybe our r relationship too.

There had to be another way

I found it.

It is a new Japanese product that fits and squeezed the girth of a penis. It is made of a synthetic rubber expands and releases in such a way that it still maintains extremity but does not allow ejaculation. I bought one online, they come in different sizes to fit the need and various colours too. I spoke to Joe about it and said would he like to try, then he'd have no problem with making our a really full intimate experience.

It was fun trying it. I did all sorts of things to stimulate him and what it said on the package was true, he didn't cum and managed to hold that so wonderful and beautiful erection I adored so very much.

"Fuck me now" I asked eagerly.. 

"I reckon I could go for that. we'd better grease you up a bit then Alex."

"I have thought of that, Joe. The same people who reduced the 'magic ring' also make a very sensual lubrication which supposed to make it very gratifying. Shell we try it?"

He was eager to try and had lost any pride or whatever about fucking me.

I was so beside myself at the thought of his fuck at last.

It was heavenly preparing him and watching him grow, feeling it grow also in my mouth before I lubricated him, smoothing it all over his seven and a half inch length of pure unadulterated cock. My cock.

I told him that!

"If you are going to fuck me I want you exclusively" I said.

"I love it when you are bossy" he said.

"So what do I get for it?" I asked.

"Try this for size" he said and lurched forward that supreme cock of his I adored so much.

I gave it some more slow sucking for good measure.

I loved to feel the pulse in my mouth and taste it's sheer earthiness and feel it's pungency.

I balled him a bit and then lavished some more lubrication after having completed fitting the correct sized ring around his girth.

"I think I am ready now, Alex"

"How would you like to do it" I asked hoping he would do it the doggy way. I lavished the idea of bending on all fours and being all ass for his pleasure.

Hole too of course.

He was happy with the doggy style and I got myself in position.

"A bit higher" he said so I planted some cushions beneath my knees and branched myself further upwards so I my ass was level with his cock.

With a little manipulation we got there.

and at last I was served with the most delightful feeling of ecstasy inside me. I felt the stretch as he pushed.

He stopped when it had entered a bit and asked if it was okay to continue.

"Just fuck me!" I bawled out.

"Right, you asked for it" he returned grasping my hips like nobody's business to get a good hold for his thrusting which soon went deep up inside me.

I held my breath as I felt it stretch me deep inside.

It hurt a little at first. They say it always does first time.

He stopped a while but that was fun anyway, we felt each other throb as he was wedged there inside.

Then when he started again the pain had gone and already it felt it belonged there.

I heard the squelching noise as he p0lunged and relaxed.

The feeling of being fucked was absolutely fantastic.

We were going it for what seemed an eternity.

Then he yelled; "I must cum, I feel I am bursting Alex!" I turned and leant on my side to release the ring from that throbbing cock I could just not wait to get back up inside me again, My whole being was wanting that so very much and I was ready to cum with him as soon as he got back into me, minus the ring.

"Tell you what Alex" Joe grunted. "Let's try it with you perched over my lap in a sitting position." And we did.

And it was heaven

Now he could let himself go completely and soon we were both well replenished and gratified after that first fuck.

Now that we had got the knack there would be plenty more to cum.



Pride and Prejudice: The Honeymoon



19 year old Elizabeth Darcy walked into the master suite and gasped. The room was huge; there were two dressing tables, one for Darcy and one for her. His was cluttered with everything he needed to get ready in the morning. Hers was empty, waiting to be filled with the things she brought with her. There was a queen sized bed in the middle of the room taking up a large portion of it. The quilt was Victorian and from what she understood had belonged to Darcy's mother.

She walked over to her dressing table and sat down. It was all so overwhelming, just this morning she had been Elizabeth Bennett. Her sister Jane, who was older than her had gotten married today as well, to Darcy's best friend Mr. Bingley. She was now at Bingley's country estate Netherfield and Elizabeth was the Mistress of Pemberley manor.

The first time she had seen the great house she had been overwhelmed. It was huge, with at least 5 bedrooms as well as a ballroom, study and other rooms that she had no idea what they were used for. Now she was Mistress of the huge estate, the servants turned to her with questions that she was sure in time she would know how to answer. For now she was just trying to get her bearings.

She had left Darcy in his study to come change and wait for him in the bedroom. She was nervous about her wedding night, she knew a little what to expect but not everything. She had been told it would hurt the first time and that gave her pause, but she loved and trusted Darcy and knew he would never hurt her intentionally.

She stood up and moved over to the bed, she knelt in front of her hope chest and opened it. Everything she owned was in this room. She dug through the chest looking for something appropriate to wear and finally decided on a nightdress that barely went to her knees. She didn't think it was really appropriate for a first night with her husband but she didn't have anything else.

She pulled it out then rested it on the bed. She started when she heard the door open and turned towards the sound. She relaxed when a young girl maybe around her age or a year or two younger walked into the room. "My lady, my name is Amelia; I'm here to help you change." She said giving a curtsy.

Elizabeth smiled at her and nodded, "all right."

Amelia walked up to her and Elizabeth turned around so she could unbutton her wedding gown. It was white silk with a tight bodice that really showed off her bosom and a flowing waistline that went to the floor. She grabbed the pole on the bed to steady herself as Amelia helped her out of the dress and her undergarments. She let Amelia help her into the nightgown then sat down at her dressing table. 

"Would you like me to brush your hair ma'am?" Amelia asked moving up behind her.

Elizabeth looked at her in the mirror. "Um...sure." She handed her the brush then stared into the mirror as Amelia took her hair down from the glorious knot it was done up in.

Elizabeth closed her eyes as she felt the brush going through her hair. She relaxed and leaned back in the chair. Her eyes flew open though when she heard the door open again. She glanced toward the door and immediately felt very nervous. Darcy walked into the room and her eyes met his.

"That will be all Amelia." He said never taking his eyes of Elizabeth.

Amelia put the brush down on the table, curtsied then left the room. Darcy closed the door behind her then moved towards Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat as she watched him. She felt like a deer being hunted as prey. Her eyes widened as he moved seductively towards her and she suddenly forgot how to breathe.

Darcy walked up to her, pulled her to her feet and wrapped his arms around her waist pulling her tight against him. "Breathe my love." He said with a smile.

Elizabeth let her breath out in a loud whoosh and lowered her eyes. Darcy chuckled and pulled her tighter against him. Elizabeth balled her hands into fists and rested them against his chest then slowly loosened them and let her hands explore him while she looked at the floor. She let her hands move over his chest and up to his shoulders. She locked her fingers in his shoulders and he smiled. "Look at me love." He said softly caressing her back with his fingers.

She slowly lifted her eyes and met his; his were dark and full of passion as he stared into her eyes. She blushed and lowered her eyes again as he chuckled. He put his finger under her chin and lifted her head as she lifted her eyes again. "You don't have to look down; I want you to look at me." He said softly caressing her cheek.

She let her eyes move over his face and smiled; he was so handsome with his dark hair that barely reached his collar and his deep brown eyes that seemed to see inside her soul. She moved her hand to his face and gently ran her finger down over his cheek. He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips kissing the palm. Elizabeth gasped as electricity shot through her at his touch.

He ran his tongue lightly over the palm of her hand and over her fingers, she watched him through wide eyes as she felt her body heating up. He brought his eyes back to hers as he moved her hand back to his shoulder. He smiled at her then lowered his head, she watched him for a second then closed her eyes as she felt his lips touch hers.

The kiss was soft and gentle at first, just the barely brushing of lips pressing together. Then Darcy deepened the kiss and Elizabeth whimpered as she pressed tighter against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair as she kissed him back. When she felt his tongue lightly run against her lips she slowly opened her mouth and whined as his tongue slipped into her mouth and ran seductively against hers.

Elizabeth pulled back and looked at him with wide eyes. Darcy just smiled and cupped her face with his hands as he brought her lips back to his. She wasn't sure how to react when he brushed his tongue against her lips again. She let her mouth slip open and tried not to pull back as she felt his tongue brushing against hers. Instead she tentatively let her tongue move against his and she felt more than she heard the moan that escaped his lips as he pulled her even tighter against him.

Elizabeth tightened her fingers in his hair and held him tight against her as she kissed him back. His hands moved down over her back and down over her butt, he squeezed her ass then pulled her tighter against him. She felt his cock pressing against her and pulled back again as she blushed.

Darcy moved his lips to her neck, gently nipping at her flesh. "Do you feel how much I want you baby?" he asked huskily against her skin. "I've never felt like this before, it is hard to explain." He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. "I want you so bad it hurts." He said staring at her with hunger filled eyes.

Elizabeth felt her pussy start to moisten at his words and the way he looked at her and she gasped. She lowered her eyes and blushed but lifted her eyes when he put his finger under her chin again. "You look so beautiful when you blush." He said softly.

She blushed again and lowered her eyes; her whole body felt like it was on fire. Darcy chuckled and lifted her into his arms. She gasped as she tightened her arms around his neck. He just smiled and carried her over to the bed.

She felt the bed come up to meet her then felt his arms leave her as he stood at the side of the bed watching her. She let her eyes move over him as he unbuttoned his shirt and let it slide down over his arms. She smiled as she stared at his bare chest. She had never seen him naked before and she had to admit she liked what she saw so far. He had a sprinkling of hair covering his chest and going in a long row down over his stomach and stopping where his pants were. She let her eyes move over his bare chest and bit her lip as she felt her body heat up once more.

Darcy climbed onto the bed and lay down next to her pulling her once again into his arms. He captured her lips with his; kissing her deeply as he let his hands drift over her body. He caressed her leg and brought his hand up over her leg until he reached the hem of her nightgown. Elizabeth stiffened in his arms as he started pulling her nightgown up over her legs. He released her lips and smiled at her as he continued lifting her gown. "Relax love, I won't hurt you." He said softly.

She blushed and looked down. She was being foolish of course, Darcy was her husband, he had every right to see her naked if he wanted to. She lifted her body as he continued pulling her gown up and closed her eyes as she felt the coolness of the room brush against her naked pussy and stomach.

He sat up and pulled her to a sitting position then carefully lifted the gown over her head. She lifted her arms and let him pull the material free then she lay back on the bed and looked at him as he dropped it on the floor behind him. Darcy let his eyes move over her naked body and Elizabeth blushed as she felt his eyes on her. "You're beautiful." He said breathlessly reaching out and cupping one of her breasts in his hand.

Elizabeth held herself completely still as he caressed her. She watched him through heat filled eyes and when he lowered his head to her breast she gasped. Her eyes widened as she felt his lips moving slowly over her skin, her breathing heated up as she watched him and she reached up and ran her fingers lightly through his hair.

Darcy nibbled at her tit with his lips and grazed the tender flesh with his teeth. Elizabeth cried out as she felt his teeth on her, and then sighed as he kissed where he had bitten. "So beautiful!" He murmured capturing her nipple between his lips and sucking hard.

Elizabeth cried out as pleasure coursed through her and clung to him as he sucked on her nipple. Her breathing became ragged and she closed her eyes as she held him. He let his hand drift down over her stomach then slipped between her spread legs. When he first touched her pussy Elizabeth's eyes shot open and she tried to pull away from him. 

Darcy lifted his head and smiled at her. "You're my wife Elizabeth; it's my right to touch you now."

Elizabeth blushed and lowered her eyes, he was right of course; she didn't know what was wrong with her. Then again no one besides herself had ever touched her there. She relaxed her body and moaned as he captured her nipple again, sucking hard on it as he slipped his finger between her pussy lips and touched her clit.

She tipped her head back and let out a loud moan as electricity shot through her at his touch. He rubbed his finger back and forth gently against her clit and she whimpered and lifted against him.

He rubbed her clit a bit harder and she cried out as her body heated up. Her breathes came out in ragged pants and she couldn't keep still. She moved against him as she fought to catch her breath. He sucked harder at her nipple as he let his hand slip lower and pushed a finger inside her. Elizabeth's eyes widened again as she felt his finger moving inside her. "D...Darcy, oh, what are you doing to me?" She gasped as pleasure coursed through her.

He didn't answer, he just worked his finger faster inside her as he nipped and pulled at her nipple with his lips. He brought his thumb up and rubbed it furiously against her clit. Elizabeth grabbed at his head and cried out as her body heated up to a fever pitch. "Oh...Oh my god, I feel so hot." She cried feeling like she was about to burst into a thousand pieces.

Darcy slipped a second finger inside her with the first and worked them hard in and out. He nipped at her nipple a bit more then lifted his head and looked at her. "Let go baby," he said huskily.

Elizabeth's eyes flew open as her body exploded with release; she let out a loud scream as her body tightened around him. "Oh yes baby, that's it." He growled kissing her hard.

Elizabeth lay there panting as Darcy pulled his fingers free and put them in his mouth. She watched him wide eyed as he tasted her on his fingers. She had touched herself a few times but she had never experienced anything like what Darcy did to her. He pulled his fingers free and captured her lips once more. When he pushed his tongue into her mouth she tasted herself on him and moaned.

Darcy pulled his head back and smiled at her. "You taste good baby." 

She blushed and looked down. She suddenly felt much underdressed, with Darcy still in his pants and she wanted to see him naked as well. She rolled over onto her side and pushed him onto his back. He looked up at her in surprise as she leaned over him. She smiled and kissed him softly then straddled his hips and slowly brought her hands to the opening on his pants.

Darcy watched her in surprise for a minute then his eyes darkened and he smiled. He reached down and grasped her hips and just held her as she undid his pants. She watched his reaction as she opened his pants and started to pull them down over his hips. He smiled again and lifted his ass letting the material slide down.

Elizabeth scooted down onto his legs then off of him and onto the edge of the bed as she pulled his pants and shorts down his legs and off. She took off his socks then moved back up over him. She glanced down at his cock hard and resting against his stomach and gasped. Her eyes widened as she stared at him. He was at least 8 inches long and 1 ½ inches in diameter. There was no way that would fit inside her. He would tear her in half.

She lifted her eyes to his; he was still smiling down at her. He reached up and stroked her cheek. "Trust me love, it will fit."

She scooted up him a bit more and sat on his thighs as she tentatively reached out and wrapped her hand around him. Darcy closed his eyes and moaned as he bucked up against her hand. Her eyes widened as she watched his reaction then slowly let her hand move up and down over him.

"Oh baby, that feels so good." He whimpered bucking against her. He tightened his fingers on her hips then suddenly shifted so she was laying on her back with him lying over her. Elizabeth gasped and Darcy kissed her softly. "If you keep that up I will cum in your hand and never get inside you."

She blushed and lowered her eyes. He kissed each of her eyelids then kissed her lips softly as he moved over her.

He nudged her legs apart and settled between them. He cupped her face and kissed her gently then looked down into her eyes. "Ready for me love?" he asked softly.

Elizabeth felt him pressing against her and her breathing quickened. She forced her body to stay relaxed as she looked up at him. She smiled shyly and nodded. He leaned down and brushed his lips against hers as he reached down and slowly started to press into her.

Elizabeth's eyes widened as she felt him moving inside her. She could feel her body stretching around him and just lay there. It didn't hurt like she had expected it to, but it did feel strange. He slowly pressed into her until he reached her barrier then stopped. She looked up at him curiously and he smiled through his teeth. "I don't want to hurt you." He sighed, slowly pulling back as he reached down and started caressing her clit.

Elizabeth felt her breathing becoming ragged and her body heating up once more as he caressed her. She could feel his slow movements inside her and between that and the way he was pulling on her clit; it wasn't long before she was writhing against him.

Darcy was fighting not to slam into her. When she started moving against him he gritted his teeth and breathed heavily through them. She was so tight and he wanted to be completely inside her. He forced himself to keep his strokes slow and measured and pulled harder at her clit. "Cum Elizabeth, cum now." He growled digging his nail into her clit.

Elizabeth cried out as she came hard around him and Darcy slammed forward with his hips impaling her on his hard rod. Elizabeth gasped as a bit of pain intruded with the pleasure. She grabbed his arms and dug her nails into him as she arched beneath him.

"Oh god Elizabeth, oh fuck." He sighed resting his forehead against hers.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and looked up at him. "What the hell?" She asked astonished.

He chuckled and kissed her softly. "You have all of me inside you baby."

She looked up at him in surprise then reached down between them and felt where he was lodged inside her. She felt around him and he groaned. "I...I thought it was supposed to really hurt?" She said softly.

He chuckled again and looked down at her. "It can hurt the first time if a woman isn't prepared for it. That's why I made you cum first, so it wouldn't hurt as bad."

Elizabeth blushed and closed her eyes. "Oh..." she said softly.

Darcy slowly started to withdraw and Elizabeth's eyes opened and she looked up at him. Her mouth opened in an O shape as she felt him moving inside her. He pulled about halfway out then pushed back into her once more. She whimpered as pleasure coursed through her. She wasn't sure what to do, was she supposed to just lay there and let him move inside her, or was she supposed to move with him? She tried to remember what her mother told her when she felt her body heating up once more. Darcy started moving a bit faster and she cried out as her body started to tighten once more.

She wrapped her legs around his waist and tentatively moved against him. Darcy groaned and leaned down and captured her lips in a soul searing kiss. He kept his lips locked on hers, his tongue moving with hers as he speared her harder and faster.

Elizabeth tore her lips from his as her breathing became ragged. "Oh Darcy, oh god." She cried moving harder against him as she raked her nails down over his back.

"Oh yes baby, you feel so good." He growled biting at her neck with his teeth.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes closed as pleasure soared through her body. She had never felt like this before and it amazed her how good it felt. "Ugh...Oh fuck, I think I'm going to cum again." She cried feeling her body tightening to a point of no return.

Darcy pounded her harder, driving her body into the mattress with his powerful strokes. "Then do it baby." He growled, "cum for me."

Elizabeth screamed as her body went flying over the edge yet again. Darcy let out a loud growl and slammed hard into her as he let go. "Oh fuck, Yesssssssssss... ssssssssssssss..." he cried as he spilled himself inside her.

"Oh my god..." Elizabeth panted as he collapsed on top of her, breathing hard.

Darcy kissed her softly then slowly pulled out of her. She winced a bit as he pulled out then snuggled against his chest as he rolled over onto his back and pulled her into his arms. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. "How did you like it baby?" he asked softly.

Elizabeth giggled and kissed his chest. "It was amazing, can we do it again?"

Darcy laughed and kissed the top of her head. "Maybe in a little while, I can't cum as often as you can."

Elizabeth lifted her head and looked down at him. "Oh..." she said finally after a minute of silence. Darcy opened his eyes and looked up at her with a smile. She reached up and brushed her finger against his bottom lip. "I love you Mr. Darcy." She said softly.

He smiled and kissed her finger. "I love you too Mrs. Darcy. Now sleep my love, it has been a long day." He closed his eyes again.

She leaned down and kissed him softly then rested her head back on his chest. "Okay," she closed her eyes and within seconds was content and fast asleep.

THE END



Pride and Punishment.



The Trial.

Chapter 1. (Francis contemplates her family's social viability.)

It came to Megan's attention that sweet, innocent, Francis may be guilty.

The crime---naughtiness in the first degree!

Francis; a sweet tender and loving girl she is, just turning 19. Brought up in a caring supportive family-unit, with contemporary values and run-of-the-mill double-standards; superficial contradictory mores, and hypocritical religious beliefs, from all accounts, a normal, ordinary household, by all current social markers.

Chapter 2. (Francis rates her parent's psychological relationship.) 

The house is alternately dominated by an hysterical mother, and a blasé, cold, affectionless father, who has let-himself-go, and torments his wife by masturbating into his glossy magazine--that he thinks no one knows about--in the bathroom, whilst taking a shit: The dog-eared mag, the one with half the pages stuck together, that he tucks away in the back of the laundry closet, under the folded curtains; a wedding present from his mother, that will never see the light of day again, as long as mommy lives. It's the safest place, for dad's rotten sexual displacement material, which keeps the two together, locked in a downward spiraling malaise, into their approaching old age. It's not pleasant, but more importantly, it is highly predictable, and reliable, and that beats pleasant, or unpleasant, hands down every time.

Chapter 3. (Francis recognizes a pattern.) 

Francis, or Fran, as she is affectionately referred to in the house, noticed that her daddy has developed a certain pattern of behavior over the last few months. She has noticed that about ten minutes, or so, after her mommy leaves to do the daily food shopping, daddy rises from the living room couch, in front of the blaring telly, and goes up into the hallway bathroom, the one with the laundry closet in it; the one where his mother's curtains are laid to rest. He has started to do this almost every day now when mommy is out food shopping. No, not-almost-every day now; but, definitely every day lately.

Chapter 4. (Francis moves to investigate strange noises.)

Wondering what daddy was up to in there: Fran's curiosity piqued by the odd noises echoing down the hallway; the grunting, the howling and all the panting...? She took it upon herself to investigate, and when she was alone in the house, she climbed up on a chair, and scrapped the paint from the corner of the glass fan-light above the bathroom door one afternoon, when nobody was about.

Chapter 5. (Francis put a stop to Richie, her brother, sniffing her farts, and cunt. It wasn't proper anymore.)

Fran has a younger brother, he is some 7 years her younger. She finally had to put her foot down with him in the last year though. Up until then, he was very affectionate with her and loved to cuddle up into her budding breasts, and as she sat on the couch watching telly with the rest of the family, he loved to fall asleep with his head snuggled deep into her lap. Even when she farted silently, he wouldn't move, but sometimes it was very ripe, and he did stir slightly. Fran would giggle, and fart silently all night long, her little brother gasping for air, in her lap. It was rather sexy, she thought. It bonded them together. And it gave her a feeling of power. One night after a huge Sunday dinner, Fran pushed the limit a little too far, and followed through with a fairly large log, that slithered into the gusset of her panties. Richie, her brother woke up with as start, and Fran had to rush off to the bathroom, and throw the turd down the lavatory, and wash her ass. She just folded her panties into the laundry basket for Megan, her mother to do, on wash day. 

Chapter 6. (Richie gets a gob full, and sulks when cut off sniffing farts and cunt.))

They had the most enormous skid mark in them, but who would be looking, so she just threw them in there, dried her crotch on the towel, and went back down to watch the telly with the family. Richie snuggled back into her crotch and as the night progressed, her legs got more and more relaxed, and fell open, wider and wider, until Richie's little face was snug up, and tucked tight into her damp vulva: She wasn't wearing any panties at the time, considering the accident with the log earlier on.

He would fall fast asleep, sometimes, and when mom and dad finally went to bed, Fran would hold Richie's, head still between her hands, and rub herself off on him. Using his nose to excite her stiff clitoris. She would come hard on the couch, her legs flying wild apart, up in the air, holding her brothers head steady, using it for her own ends. As she came, she would squirt into his face, and rub it into her pubic hairs to dry him off. Sometimes she would revolve her pelvic region around, until her bung-hole was located on his unconscious lips, and over the tip of his nose. The stimulation of her pooh-pooh hole by the nose, would carry on until it made her open up and let out a very hot silent fart. She would hold him there, and notice the change in his breathing pattern, as he breathed in the thick, methane gas out of her ring. It took a lot of control to meter out the gas evenly, and silently, so that the optimal quantity would be breathed in by her lovely brother. Fran felt it was good for him, so she always let him have it, hot and stinky. Lately though, Fran felt that her brother, was sniffing her pussy with intent, and the last time she came in his sleeping face, she thought she felt his tongue darting in and out of her dripping cunt hole. She wasn't sure if he was totally asleep anymore. And that would be absolutely unacceptable! Why, it would be--perverted! So Fran stopped her brother from sleeping in her lap. He sulked for a whole month.

Fran, though, used her younger brother's toy periscope to watch her daddy with: Peeping through the scratched paint of the bathroom sky-light window; in the corner.

Chapter 7. (Francis discovers her daddy sniffing her panties.)

Fran was shocked, but also flattered, to find daddy was at the laundry in there. Daddy was sniffing. When she saw it she wet her clean panties--the ones he will be sniffing in two more days, no doubt: A self-serving sexual feedback loop of sorts. Fran ran into her bedroom, and locked the door. After she calmed down, she rubbed herself, and came.

Chapter 8. (Francis' curiosity kills the cat.)

The very next day, mommy went shopping again, and a few minutes later, daddy went up into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him. Fran stole up the stairs, missing-out the ones that creaked, and silently entered her bedroom. She pulled her the periscope out from under the bed that she had pinched from her brother's toy box, and made her way quietly to the bathroom door. She could hear the strange noises again coming from inside, out through the door. She raised the periscope up into the corner of the sky-light, and brought its lens to peer through the scratched paint, in the corner of the fan-light window. Francis reluctantly stuck her eye into the into the eyepiece, and ogled the view--she shivered, as what she saw registered upon her sensibilities.

Chapter 9. (Francis equates love making with the internal combustion engine.)

Fran saw that daddy rubs himself-off into her dirty panties, whilst sniffing a second pair too. His bulging purple helmet battering into the sticky goo deposit at the center of her discarded knickers, her vaginal cream spreading over his knob-end, and being forced down into the eye of his cock on the down-stroke, as he bottoms-out on the slack of his foreskin. A further downward stretch opens his urethra's eyelet, like a little goldfish's mouth feeding at the meniscus of its bowl. If the panties are positioned just right, and just enough space is allowed to accommodate the downward travel, then the creamy gusset will be stretched tight over the top of his red knob; just as his little eye blinks open, gobbling minute quantities of Fran's love-tunnel deposit. Exactly as it would if he were having intercourse with her: When, on the in-stroke, as her vaginal muscles clamp tight around his throbbing shaft, and he runs out of foreskin, his little gold-fish mouth opens just as it batters into her weeping cervix. The juice from inside her womb, having been sucked out through the cervix, by the pumping, and piston action of his massive thrusting cock, fills up the top of her vaginal tunnel, whereby on his next deep thrust, the thick, viscous, pungent womb syrup, laced with estrogen, is forced deep down his urethra, by the combined events of his rock-hard plunger, thrusting forward, compressing the fluid high up in her tunnel, whilst simultaneously running out of foreskin, as she grips his shaft tight with her vulva muscles, pulling the eye open, injecting her brew, all the way down its center shaft's tube, basically force-feeding him directly from the womb with hot a potent estrogen brew, via the urethra tube of his gulping proboscis. Bathing his balls, in her peaceful elixir, nullifying the inherent violence of his own testosterone poisoning. Putty in her hands he becomes, as calm as a little lamb, as faithful as a puppy-dog, as she feeds him more of her concoction, holding him by the ears, as he obediently laps and ingests more and more of her chemicals and hormones directly from her driveling cunt. 

Chapter 10. (Francis is awed by the size of her daddy's cock.) 

Fran could hardly believe how big daddy is between the legs. No wonder she used to hear mommy screaming and moaning late into the night, something about her ass-hole was going to split into two, and her constant pleading that he not take it out just yet, or she would follow through and shit all over him. Then she would hear daddy moaning and complaining and calling her a bitch, and for her to get some paper towels. And mommy fighting back telling him that that thing is too big for anyone's ass-hole, and that if he can't handle her shit, then he should stay out of her ass altogether!

Now, finally Fran understood! She saw daddy, sitting there on the pan, with that fearful, wonderful--thing--arcing out from between his hairy center. A strident 14 measures long, to the inch, at least, and the head---a wonton, bulbous, 4 sexual parsecs in diameter at the hood! It looked like a baby's arm holding a large hothouse tomato in its tiny grip.

Chapter 11. 

Apparently, daddy was seen to be frantically polishing the rigid shaft of his manhood, by his devoted daughter, Francis, and the polishing rag used; that of her panties, draped over it, like a veil over a coffin of a stiff dignitary, with a second pair of her stinky knickers pulled over his head, sniffing at her creamy gusset that she laid-down specifically with him in mind--Fran always wears her panties for three days, just for her daddy--and looking through the leg-holes, down at the open magazine on the floor, between his legs, he starts to writhe around on the toilet seat. Fran knows then that he is about to come. Her panties are being blown out, then alternately sucked in, as her daddy gasps for air, then he groans, and stiffens rigid; shudders and shakes, and fills the gusset of her panties to the brim with his cream. On a few occasions, he has burst clean through the fabric of her knickers with his rod, and Fran is amazed to see spurt after spurt of thick, white, cream shoot high up into the air, in a perfect arc, that lands halfway across the bathroom. The first two or three shots go the furthest, usually hitting the shower curtain, and the subsequent loads diminishing in both height and distance. After the last few puny loads of cream spill out of her daddy, driveling down his softening shaft, over Fran's wrecked panties, and dripping off his clenched hand, he slumps back on the pan, blowing and grunting the panties inflating and deflating slower and slower, as the orgasmic rush leaves him. When this happens Fran tip-toes back to her bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her, hiding the periscope under her bed, and lays on the bed, pretending to read. She can hear her daddy trying to clean up the semen with what sounds like handfuls of toilet tissue. When he has finished Fran creeps into the bathroom. She always finds at least one load that her daddy missed, and scoops it up with her fingers for him, and sucks them clean. Fran has never seen such a huge long cock, and her daddy's balls are enormous. She usually keeps count of how many loads he shoots out. Twelve is the record, but that was because mommy didn't go shopping for three days last month, his little ball-sack must have been bursting with come. If Fran looks in the trash later, she invariably will find her torn panties stuffed in the bottom of a tin can, with a ball of toilet tissue rammed on top for camouflage, and the lid folded back down over it. Fran's daddy is very crafty and careful, but he can't fool Fran. Fran's mother is always puzzled and perplexed on laundry days, when one of Fran's panties goes missing, and she questions Fran about it, but what can she say? She just shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, and Megan, her mother, looks at her with squinted eyes and says, 

"I just hope you are not doing anything that you shouldn't be doing down there at the college! I don't like this new crowd you're hanging out with lately."

I say, "Oh...mom, don't be silly. They're just friends, that's all."

Daddy hides behind his paper.

Daddy is still quite limber, and lately, if he happens to break through my gusset with his over zealous pumping, he has taken to tearing the panties off his head, and grabbing his head at the back and pulling it down hard. Daddy is so long that her can get the entire head of his purple, magenta helmet all the way in his mouth, and I can see his balls dancing up and down in their sack, as he unloads into his mouth, rubbing his pulsating shaft furiously, and pulling his head up and down in a bobbing motion. I can hear him swallowing his hot, creamy loads, one after another, and see his Adam's apple, going up and down in unison with his balls. Sometimes he can't swallow fast enough and the thick, creamy syrup squirts out of the corners of his mouth, and sometimes he's not fast enough, getting his cock-head into his mouth, and the first shot, goes straight up his nose, or into his eye, or right over his head altogether and lands in his hair or down his back.

Most times though, daddy , is more careful, and just fills my panties with his loads, then wipes his knob end and throws the panties back in the laundry bin, covering them over with a handful of clothes, and he's done for the day, and saunters off back to the coach to watch the telly.

I sneak into the bathroom and rummage through the laundry until I find the panties that daddy used to unload into, and I run back to my room and lock the door.

I open them up slowly, and find a huge load of Thick, white creamy goo filling my knickers. If I am quick enough, the sperm hasn't liquefied yet, and is still the consistency of whipped cream, or cold custard.

I pull my panties off, and get my vibrator out from my locked trinket box under my bed, and dive onto the bed. I build up the pillows behind me, and pull my legs up over my shoulders, threading my arms and upper body through my open legs. I push my feet through the rungs of the headboard behing me, and lock my ankles there. Then I dip my vibrator into daddy's cream and do both my holes using daddy's thick white treacle as lube. Some times I push the loaded gusset all the way into my love-tunnel, and some of it into my bung-hole with the pointy end of my vibrator, then I buzz my clitoris, licking the end of my vibrator, every few seconds until I come.

Sometimes I leave my panties stuffed into my holes for hours, and almost come at the dinner table just knowing that daddy's come is being eaten by my vagina and ass-hole, right there in front of mommy. I love that.

After dinner, I excuse my self to the bathroom, and pull the panties out of my holes. They are very smelly and wet, but most of daddy's come is now inside me. I hide my panties deep down in the laundry basket, to dry out before mommy does the wash. 

My period came very late last month. I thought I was pregnant. Daddy would have to divorce mommy, of course, if I was, and marry me. I would make him do it! I know he secretly wants to. I would be a loving wife to my daddy. And he wouldn't need that magazine any longer, and he wouldn't have to sneak into the bathroom and rub his cock on my panties like that while mommy is out shopping everyday, and he wouldn't have to suck his own rod, and swallow his own come. I would do all of that for daddy. I would love to do that for him.

Chapter 12.(Francis is suspected by her fastidious mother, Megan, of shamelessly gallivanting with men, and carousing with those floozies of hers that she calls--friends.)

Megan first became suspicious of her daughter's possible goings'-on when she noticed something out of the ordinary whilst doing the weekly wash. Francis had started hanging out with a new crowd at college, and Megan sensed something in her demeanor of late that piqued her motherly sense of alarm. It was difficult to put one's finger on it exactly, but Francis seemed to exude a suppression of--guilt, hidden beneath a happy-go-lucky outer facade.

Chapter 13.

Megan turned her daughter's skimpy little soiled panties inside-out for the washing: She noticed two heavy stains in the gusset. They were dried beige-colored crystalline deposits encrusting a softer gooey middle. One was centered about where her daughter's love-tunnel rests throughout the day, and the other sat a few inches back toward the rear of there; where her pooh-hole resides.

Chapter 14.

Megan sniffed and tasted the gummy, crusted, deposits. Alarm bells went off in her head! She knew the taste of dried come from old a mile away. She sniffed deeply of the panties, and to be sure she rubbed the gooey center over the taste-buds at the back of her tongue, swilling the sample around her pallet like a wine taster, and sniffing and snorting the scent from her daughter's reconstituted drippings. 

During the swallowing, Megan confidently detected a concentrated admixture of men's semen mixed in with Francis' love-cave-cream, and bung-hole-mud. Megan had blown enough cock, and licked more gash than anyone she knew during her college days, and just for old-times-sake, she adroitly turned the washer-dial-knob around to the spin-cycle setting, whilst reaching under her short skirt at the same time.

Megan is expert at raking her panty-gusset over her Mount-of-Venus, at a moment's notice, latching it down into the cleft between her vulva and thigh: Securing it--out of the way--readying her vent for-action, and it got plenty of action in her time, believe me: Tucking the damp, sticky, fabric safely into her pungent groin.

Megan, lost in olfactory nostalgia, lifted her open vulva up onto the corner of the cool, oscillating, machine--and came hard sucking the remnant stains out of the tiny panties: She needed to be absolutely sure of her findings before taking action...!

Chapter 15.

Megan sucked her daughter's gusset clean before she slithered off the corner of the washer, falling back against the wall of the laundry room, panting and groaning and sucking hard on her rigid, red, hot nipples, as she tore her blouse open yanking her bra up around her neck, and roughly hiking two overflowing handfuls of ample breast high-up off her chest, and inserting their teats into her mouth. She sucked and bit on the stiff deep-brown nipples, and lurched forward once again locating her clitoris back up onto the violently wobbling machine: The corner of it--pushed as far as she could manage into her gaping, dripping, love-hole. She came again, almost instantly, and this time her feet actually left the ground, and with perfect balance, an gripping the sides of the vibrating washer with her powerful thighs, she pivoted, humping wildly, with the corner of the machine fucking her hole relentlessly. This time she came long and intense, and pissed everywhere. Megan's husband, called down the stairs into the basement wondering what all the noise was about? Megan gathered enough composure to answer back that she was just singing as she did the laundry, her hubby grunted and told her to keep it down, her couldn't here the T.V. with all the racket! Megan slid off the corner of the washer, and fell backward into the pile of dirty laundry, biting her nipples hard, and squirting golden piss up into the air, as wave after wave of thundering orgasm rocketed through her quaking body: Megan composed herself once more and hollered in a calm, and convivial voice: 




Pride and Punishment.



"Okay, sorry honey..."

Hubby, hesitated for a second-head popped through the partially open door, around the corner, at the top of the basement stairs, out of line of sight-then dismissed what his intuition told him to be probable; but, not readily logical, of the possible happenings down there; around the corner, in the dimly lit arena, of the dank makeshift utility room, down the stair--amid the going's-on in the musky musty air. He has no idea---Why, he's just--a man...!

Chapter 16. 

Within reason, allowing the benefit of doubt to reign, but not totally appeased by the final flimsy retort, he gained; Megan's naive better-half--Oh, please...spare me...?--reluctantly slammed the door shut again, just as the biggest wave of her continuing orgasm hit her loins---and hit her hard! 

The sheer intensity of the orgasmic-pleasure-tsunami, ravaging at her shuddering frame, at her bones even, delving into the very marrow of her being: The shock-wave, propagating-out from the epicenter of her pulsating clitoral head, like the leading edge of the percussion-front from "Little Boy", itself, devastating everything in its path, as it flows, unrestricted, at ballistic velocity, over a pristine, unsuspecting land: The effect flooding her electrified buzzed hypothalamus, buried deep within her mammalian brain stunned her.

...Her senses swamped, and set-adrift in an all-consuming raged sea of utter hedonistic lustful burning desire and wonton exotic greed.

The wave of endorphin hit her ganglia's sex-organ, with the ferocity of a Banzai Pipeline thundering ashore, on a treacherous beach somewhere in mid Pacific: She, as helpless as the Hawaiians of old, braving THE' beast, bobbing on their wooden strips, like salty ballerinas, dancing wonderfully atop their crude long-boards: Like them, feeling nothing more than a lone passenger aboard the malicious glassy surface of the thundering behemoth, speeding along its frictionless spine--ultimately out of control in the big picture--an insignificant "smart" piece of flotsam--hanging in there, hanging a 5, risking it not for profit, and at this level not for pride; some scoff at it---hanging in there--hanging deep, hanging a perfect 5: Hanging on for dear life--hanging in there---just for the ride.

She took the hit well, but her ass betrayed her, and it let out such an enormous fart which sounded like a duck being run over by a steam-roller! Her bung-hole quaked in spasms. Blinking in symphony with her orgasm, so violently, that an enormous log got ejected from her spasming, open-and-shut, pooh-hole.

Megan collapsed into the pile of washing, and lay still, there on the floor, for several minutes, until her head cleared, until she regained her senses.

When she came to, she panicked, and cleaned the piss up with the dirty clothes, wiped her ass on he husband's jockey-shorts, and polished the love-juice off the corner of the washer, in double-quick time.

The log was a problem, it was too big to push down the washer drain pipe, so Megan hid it in the bottom of the detergent box, shoveling soap powder over it with the measuring scoop, until it sank deep down under the white snowy flakes: Swallowed silently like an unsuspecting body under shifting grains of quicksand.

Chapter 17.

Megan has always loved the taste of hole-juice and day-old-sperm. It reminds her of her youth, when she would lick all the girls in the dorm when they returned on a Sunday night, after their hot, steamy weekends at home with their naughty, naughty, boyfriends. It turned her on so much--so often..

Why, only last night, Francis came home, looking flushed in the face: Megan detected foreign vulva-cream off her daughter's lips and smelled pussy-juice on her breath as she kissed her mother adieux for bed: And Megan-spotted-several pubic hairs stuck to Francis' cheek: Glued by a slippery glistening, thick fluid, that had dried there. She noticed the hairs were of different color--ginger, blond and brunette. Megan prematurely concluded that Francis must have had her face in at least three vulvas that very evening alone!

Megan silently sampled her daughter's fragrance as they hugged and kissed. The aroma was unmistakable, and strong! The little bitches must have been worked-up into a frenzy: The stinky scent of honey-cinnamon, and a hint of black pepper with a twist of cilantro bathed her baby's face. Megan knew it had to be crack juice; it was so pungent, and ripe! 

Megan's nipples hardened upon first sniff, and her clitoris swelled and ran its pink little head all the way out of her prepuce like a torpedo being loaded for action into it's sub's hollow launching-war-tube: Poking its little arrow-head--clear--from her outer upper-labial-lips.

Megan excused herself, and repaired to the bathroom. Her intent--to rub herself-off between the legs--but she came shamelessly in the hallway, instead; hanging white-knuckled onto the door-knob before she got there: Her clitoris abrading itself into orgasm on the inside of her rough lace panties. Something had to be done about this!

Francis: Megan's eldest daughter, therefore, stands accused of wantonly licking vulva of trollop, whore and strumpet--kissing, sucking and gobbling unwashed puckered rose-bud; even going as far as to insert a wet little tongue deep inside the dark, mysterious bung-holes of dirty little bitches, and pimply wanking jocks, white-knuckled, with their teeth hanging out of their heads to dry; polishing their bishop's heads, and shooting their steaming creamy liquid hosts down my daughter's neck.

Thrusting it; her tongue, mind you, wholly into their dripping love-tunnel caves--lapping and drinking greedily at warm honey fluids enticed from their flowery labial glands: And also, cavalierly, allowing male contingents of the crowd, to fuck her holes, coming not only in her hot, little snatch, but also shooting their load up into her pooh-pooh hole, whilst she, no doubt, gave others around her blow jobs left right and center, guzzling, and gnawing at their turgid proboscises; gulping down shot after shot of their milky, white, hot come; emptying scrotum after scrotum of ejaculate down her open throat, into her eager little tummy: Aided solely by her fingers rammed securely into their hairy little male bung-holes, up to the knuckle: Digging well manicured nails deep into her lover's prostate nut: Ensuring she gets every last single drop of cock-come out of their stiff young rods! Megan could taste it off her daughter's tongue when they kissed; they always kissed French style, they love it. All the family kisses French. Kissing is one thing, but the rest of it, well--! This... Is considered--Naughty!

Chapter 18.

Naughtiness, begets punishment! Before punishment is deemed appropriate it must first be--warranted. Therefore, there must be an--Inspection! Megan must decide, based upon the findings of said "Inspection", whether punishment itself--used as a corrective tool, only--is called for, or even needed, at all?

Megan thought,

"...for everyone, my dear Francis, is presumed innocent, until... But, if you have let Men! infiltrate, any, or all of your holes, rocking and thrusting their stiff rod into you, and coming down, through your throat; splashing their hot, thick, sticky semen into your accepting tummy, or filling your pillowed love-tunnel with their creamy sperm, coating your quivering cervix with their saline balm; as your womb shudders in chaotic-sympathetic-resonance with its thundering orgasmic spasm; or shooting their semen high-up inside your anal chamber, as you both writhe in utter ecstatic carnal pleasure together: Complicit in your combined guilt.

Well, such naughtiness, has to be addressed, and after the fun is subsided, darling Francis; as the saying goes, "Then it's time to pay--The Piper!" And, my sweet lovely--innocent--angel, Megan [is] that very Piper! And be sure, [She] always collects her due...."

Chapter 19.

Megan felt--justified--in her assessment of the situation, even though all of the evidence, was rather circumstantial, and based mainly on her own experience--not to mention her envy and jealousy. Megan felt she was still young at heart, and if anyone in Her house was going to lick cunt, and blow cock, then it ought---by right of her massive past experience, expertise, let alone her burning, insatiable, desire---be Hers and Hers alone...!

Megan remembered when she was her daughter's age, " Why I would have the netball team lined-up six deep, after Wednesday-night practice. I would lay on a center pew, and as they came out of the showers, they would, one by one, straddle the pew, descending over me, and do themselves-off on my face. My tongue flashing about like a King Cobra tasting the air for danger. Everyone of them I did in less than a minute a piece: They loved me on the team--I was useless on the court, but the loved me on the team!

We all got caught one night by the coach, Mrs. Craner. She went absolutely ape-shit, and ran around smacking the buttocks of every player on the team... And sent them home crying, threatening to tell all of their parents, she never did though.

She made me wait in her office for a full hour while she berated the whole team, and when the last of them were sent packing, she came and got me.

She dragged me out of her office, and told me to take the chair I was sitting on with me.

She marched the both of us back into the shower room, and turned the showers on full.

Steam soon filled the space between us, and she grabbed the chair and put it under the handle of the door, so that it couldn't be opened from the outside.

I was sweating because of the steam, and I was nervous and confused, I didn't know what was going to happen...?

We stood there, facing each other semi-obliterated, through the hot clouds of the showers running.

Mrs. Craner--coach Craner--more commonly known as "camel-toe Craner", due to her enormous camel-toe that she paraded around with her wherever she went. It was the talk of the college, and the secret fantasy of every horny little freshman runt, along, no doubt, with all the many lesbians, and half of the faculty, to boot! I, personally, looked it over once or twice, but to be frank and honest, I had bigger fish to fry...and summarily put the gaping carp's mouth out of my immediate thoughts.

I didn't know what to do, standing there in the clouds of the shower room, then "camel-toe-Craner" spoke.

"Megan, you have been a very naughty girl." she said in a quavering vibrato.

"Yes, miss..." I offered back in my best guilty sounding voice.

"You have to be punished." responded the camel-toe.

"Yes, miss..." I whimpered back at her.

"Have you showered yet Megan." she asked evenly.

"No miss, not yet...I was--"

"Yes, Megan...I know...you were---too busy doing something else! Isn't that right, Megan Phillips?"

"Yes, miss...I...I...I'm--"

"Yes, Megan, we all know your--sorry--but that doesn't quite set the records straight, now does it?"

"No miss...I mean no it doesn't Mrs. Craner...miss, no it doesn't coach Craner."

"Okay then. You seem repentant enough. I will let this go this time Ms. Phillips, but don't let it happen again, do you understand me Phillips?"

"Yes, miss! Thank you miss, I don't know what got into me miss." I said with a sight of relief.

"It was probably the Devil Phillips--The Devil do you hear me Phillips?"

"Yes, Mrs. Cramer---The Devil. May I go now coach--I have to be home by--"

" I thought your said that you haven't showered yet Phillips...?" insinuated camel-toe Craner.

"Yes, miss, but I--" I pleaded.

"Then get your kit off and into the showers with you Miss Phillips. I can't send you home to your mother, smelling like that now can I?" bellowed Craner.

As coach Craner said this, she was simultaneously disrobing.

I noticed that her breasts were simply enormous, and that her teats were very dark and stood out almost a full inch.

" I haven't had my shower either Miss Phillips," said camel-toe in a low sultry tone that bewildered me, "I'm sure you don't mind if I share the shower with you, do you...? There isn't very much time left before security locks up for the night...and I need to feel fresh before I get--intimate..." breathed coach Craner hotly.

I blinked several times as she took off the bottoms of her jogging pants! 

No wonder she had the nickname of "Camel-Toe Craner".

She was exceedingly hairy down there! Her bush was wild, and thickly covered her entire belly with a dark curly line stretching up from the middle of her jungle, encapsulating and passing her navel by some three inches. Her vulva made mine look like a tiny little slit; like a sweet smiling goldfish's mouth; hers looked like a picture I remember of daddy proudly holding up a 20lb carp that he caught that summer up at the lake; its huge rubbery lips red and blue, and so out of proportion to the rest of its body. 

I stripped and my little titties bounced and defied gravity itself as I yanked my top and bra off over my head all in one go, and my shaved vulva hid like a shy sea anemone between the sandy colored shores of my crossed thighs. I was almost certain that I heard Mrs. Craner let out a low moan, as she looked me over; her jaw drooping open, and jutting forward.

Coach Craner opened her legs wide, and stretched her arms up into the air, clasping her hands high above her head. Huge tufts of hair billowed out from under her armpits. I was transfixed! I had never seen such a thing on a woman before. I thought only men had hair there. My jaw drooped open, and my eyelids fluttered with embarrassment like a butterfly cooling itself atop a fully blossomed tulip's petals swaying in a gentle breeze, basking in a blasé of a midday's cruel sun.

Camel-toe Craner saw my surprise, and I was almost sure I detected a hint of a grin flashing across her face, then disappearing back into her subconscious, as quickly as it had come.

"Don't you stretch Miss Phillips before you go into a hot shower?" she said invitingly, "You really ought to you know. It relaxes the muscles and tendons."

"No coach...I...I...didn't know--" I spluttered.

"Well, you ought to know...Megan. May I call you Megan? It's such a...pretty name. You may call me Jean, but never in front of the other girls, Megan. I have to...maintain a--professional distance--in public. In front of the other girls, you will refer to me as Ms. Craner, or just coach, but when we are alone, Megan, it would be nice if you will call me--Jean, I'd like that. I'd like that a lot Megan, I really would. But never call me Camel-toe Craner, Megan--at least not to my face."

A tear rolled down her cheek.

"...Such a cruel name. You girls don't know what I have gone through all my life. I was born with an abnormally large vulva, you see...and anyway, its been just...just...just been very difficult for me Megan, all my life." she sniffled.

"Yes. Ms Craner...I ...I...I mean, Yes, Jean." I faltered.

Chapter 20.

Jean smiled, then bowed her head for a moment, as if shy, or relieved to have gotten something off here chest to an old friend. She subtly brushed her tears away quickly with a an adroit swish of both index fingers shooting in opposite directions like a pair of opposing windscreen-wipers one sees on cars in black-and-white Hollywood movies of old.

A moment later, her head sprang back up and she was back, as coach Craner again.

"Come Megan, let me show you the proper way to stretch." she said lovingly.

I tried to refuse, but she insisted.

"Now Megan, kneel down right there, and hold onto my hips securely, while I touch my toes first with my right hand then with the left, and so on. And remember, the twisting action of the waist is very good for the figure." she instructed.

"Yes, miss...I mend Jean--sorry, I forgot..."

"That's alright Megan, you will get used to it after a while."

I remember getting worried; thinking what she meant by, '..after a while.'?

I knelt down and Jean turned around with her back to me. She opened her legs very wide, and motioned for me to hold onto her hips. Jean--coach--has a good figure, like all athletic types, but it is what is called--a full figure. She has a rather slim waist, but her bottie is enormous, with not an ounce of fat on it though, and her thighs are what is called ball-crushers---Thunder-Thighs!

"Now Megan, hang on tight, and remember its all in the twisting." 

As Jean bent over from the hip, and twisted downward to touch her toes, her entire buttocks opened up wide, just inches from my face. Then she rose up--then over again--twisting to touch-down with the other hand: Then repeat...

Left, right-left, right--faster and faster. It was impressive! Jeans bung-hole was dark brown, and nestled in a mass of course black hair: It was the size of a silver dollar, at least; and it was quaking as she worked her muscles. Her sphincter constricting, and releasing her massive ring so much so that it looked as if it was winking at me.

Jeans vulva had opened up wide, and her labia majora, and minora, were engorged, and hanging out of her, flapping back and forth as she worked-out in my face.

I could smell both holes distinctly.

She pooped a small little fart during the stretching activity. I determined she had eaten flap-jacks and maple syrup with whole wheat-walnut toast, and coffee for breakfast; I noticed a nut fragment entangled in the hairs of her ass-hole, and she partook in a caesar salad with orange juice for lunch--and I smelled day old semen there as well!

A steady stream of thick, love-tunnel cream driveled off her flapping labial wings, and stretched out into the air between us, whipping around in fine-dancing gossamer threads as she twisted around between my arms athletically. She hadn't showered this morning, and I picked up the distinct acrid scent of latex rubber from her turgid vulva.

I concluded Jean was insecure in her heterosexual relationship with her husband, possibly because, of the abnormality of her genital region, and there was no children. Jean was having an affair too, I felt.

She must have been out last night fucking her boyfriend, hence the smell of condom from her love-hole. Husbands don't bother with such cumbersome articles. By the time she got home, her spouse, the cuckold, already in bed, unconsciously caught scent of her pheromones from the prior love-making stint earlier in the evening: He probably became aroused, and subconsciously, both, wanted to make love to his unfaithful wife, and simultaneously punish her for betraying him. 

To satisfy both desires, he fucked her brutally in her ass-hole, and denied her his seed, throwing it to waste deep in her anal chamber, robbing her of his unborn children: Such a wicked thing to do to a potential mother.

Spurt after spurt--after hot, sticky spurt, his soldiers died, running down her warm logs, deep inside her dirt-box--and she felt the grief--intently!

With Jean, now doing double-duty, under the sheets with her simpering hubby, to cover for her steamy affair with her fancy-man earlier; exhausted, and late getting to sleep; hence, dozing through the morning alarm--rushing out with no shower--Why it's written all over her ass, "...my dear Watson!"

Chapter 21.

Jean, Ms. Craner, was sweating profusely, and stood up. Her buttocks closed around the nut stuck amid the hairs of her puckered rose-bud. She turned around to face me, and with an exercise-induced-endorphin-rush of a smile, asked,

"So, Megan, do you see how it's done-- Did you see?" she repeated excitedly.

"Yes, Jean--I saw it...very clearly-- I saw it all. Thank you." I answered in kind, repeating myself like her.

"Okay! Let's see how good a student you are then, Megan. Come on, it's your turn now-Jump to it girl-come on don't be shy, Jean will hold you, come now--I said NOW! Miss Phillips!..."




Pride and Punishment.



I farted out loud, and almost shit myself out of fear-It was turtle head time! Craner giggled. I blushed red, and sucked my turd back into my ass hole, but only just!

I tried to object but Jean was already on her knees, and had spun me around in her strong hands. She caught hold of my ankles and yanked my legs apart--wide! I felt her hands run around my bare buttocks, then up and over my hips.

Her hands were large and strong, and although, she was cupping both of my tiny little hips in her hands, I felt her adjust her thumbs further and further down and slip them deep between the crack of my buttocks, as if she thought I wouldn't notice! 

I turned my head around to peep at her over my shoulder. She didn't see me looking at her. Her nose was less than half an inch from the cleft of my buttocks, and she was staring intently into the crack.

I felt her powerful hands grip my hips like a vice, and her thumbs, dig deep into my groove. It was as if she had forgotten that I was there at all. She started to pant like a panther, and saliva dripped out of her open mouth and ran thickly down; and drooled off the tip of her chin.

Slowly she revolved her hands in a forward, upward direction, her thumbs pulling my pert little tight buttocks wide apart, exposing my pooh-pooh hole in all of its glory. I saw the tip of her tongue come out of her mouth, flicking chaotically in the air.

"Okay, Megan...do the exercise please." she said in a deep, thick, sultry sort of voice, that frightened me.

"...But, miss--" I pleaded.

"Do the exercise NOW! Megan," she hissed, "Or, I'll be forced to tell your parents what you have been up to with the netball team in here tonight!"

A shiver ran up my spine, And about three inches of a tapered shit-log pushed out of my ass again, right into coach's face this time. She gasped, and panted, and I heard her open her urethras fully and piss hard onto the tiled floor. I could feel her splashing around my ankles. I...I...I was able to suck it back in tight little ass-hole again, but next time it might go to full-term; Camel-Toe Craner might get the full enchalata---Burrito Special, hot off the griddle---hold the mayo baby!

My schpincter muscle was aching trying to keep my hole closed...and I knew, it was a big one up there, and it wanted "Out"! I was sweating.

I turned around and started the twisting-stretching toe-touching action, just like she had shown me.

Left-right, left-right---faster and faster I went...

I was so, so, nervous, that every time I rose up to the vertical stance, then down again, bending from the hip, my pee-pee hole squirted a powerful jet of urine out of my tight little vulva, and Jean had my buttocks pulled so, so, far apart, that a rather noisy fart popped out almost every time.I could hear her panting, and pissing in the floor.

I kept pumping, and squirting and farting... I was afraid, and didn't know what else to do--so I just kept on doing it.

I could hear coach Jean groaning and moaning, and after a few minutes, as I went down for another toe-touch, I could see that Jean had somehow managed to get her head way back on her shoulders, and had positioned it directly under me. Her mouth was wide open and the tip of her nose was touching my little bung-hole. With every twist and bend, I shot a hot blast of piss into her mouth, and I could hear her noisily guzzling it down; and as my pooh-hole opened and let out a little, yet noisy fart, she greedily inhaled deeply, taking me all the way into her...filling her lungs with my pong-pong-hole air. She is lucky I have a lovely scent to my gas. I have been told that I have the fragrance of milk-taffy, mixed with burnt toast and roasted coffee beans. Everyone seems to like it...

Chapter 22.

We were both dripping with sweat, and Jean relaxed her vice-like grip on my hips and buttocks, and I had to bolt to the toilet with the head of a log hanging out of my rose-bud about 2 inches. No sooner had I sat down on the bowl, when the biggest log came thundering out of my ring like an express train trying to make-up time on a delayed midnight run. Camel-toe Craner was a lucky little sniffer, 'cause that train was a'coming around the bend, and nothing was gonna stop it. The old saying stands correct once again--'A fart is a message from the brain, that the shit is on the next train!'

Chapter 23.

There was no paper in the stall, so I couldn't wipe.

When I returned, Jean was standing there, bent over, massaging her thigh muscles, like nothing had happened. 

In the interim, she had reverted back into the "coach Craner" persona again, and referred to me by my surname--Phillips.

"Where have you been, Phillips?" demanded Ms. Craner.

I...I...I had to--to "go", miss." I retorted meekly.

"None of the stalls have any toilet tissue Phillips! I checked earlier..." she said in an accusatory tone.

"I know miss, I couldn't wipe" I said with embarrassment. 

"Turn around and open your legs, Phillips. Now touch your toes with both hands." She ordered.

Coach Cranner sat on one of the pews, and pulled be backwards toward her. She opened my buttocks and peered in for a few seconds, and said,

"Yes, it's a little messy in there, Phillips." she said slowly.

"Miss, I have to be home for dinner soon, may I be dismissed now?"

There was a moment of silence, before Craner bellowed,

"No! And get those tight little buns into the shower Phillips, NOW! Phillips!" expelled the coach.

She slapped my buns as I ran past her into the hot steaming sprinklers of the communal shower stall. Craner checked the chair was still securely situated under the handle of the locker-room door, then strode, determinedly into the hot vapors--with me.

She fucked me every-which-way-to-Sunday on the floor of the shower. Her huge wet hairy pussy working itself off on my young head. It was so, so, so, much bigger than anything else I had ever encountered! I mean as I was attempting to lick her center hole, that was dripping wet with a constant flow, of love-juice, the outer wings of her labia filling my ears with the overflow of her love-cream.

We thrashed around in the haze of burning water for almost an hour: Camel-toe-Craner, always on top, in the 69 position, and fucking my face like a bunny-rabbit, interspersed by periods of biting and licking of my pussy, her tongue reaching all the way up into my hole at times. She had a bar of soap down there and lathered three fingers real good, then inserted them deep into my pooh-pooh hole. I liked it! I had two handfuls of her pubic hair wrapped around my fingers, almost dragging them out by the roots, pulling her vulva over my face trying to get her to settle-into, and maintain, an even rhythm so she would calm-down into an orgasmic final run. She was fucking my face erratically, she was too excited to concentrate on coming. I had to slow her down, and steady her up a bit.

When she would get out of rhythm, I would tear at her long coarse pubes like a spoiled brat--she would howl like a fucking wolf: I was afraid someone would hear us, but it had to be done.

I would grasp two handfuls of her expansive bush and yank as hard as I could. In the end I had her barking like a fucking hound, and yelping like a puppy whose tail had just been stepped on. She would stiffen up, arch her back, and shudder in waves of convulsive spasms of submissive pain, galvanized over by dominant pleasure. As a reward, and as punishment, the vulnerable Craner unconsciously chose to piss into my face.I had to drink a lot of it, or drown right there. I countered by pissing back into her face and farting, with everything I had.

I noticed that if I really let-her-have-it, and tore her bush out by the roots, her ass-hole would spring wide open for a few seconds, then slam shut-again, with such ferocity, that I could actually feel the wind of it blasting over my sweated face.

Every time I did it, I could see the end of a gigantic log, up her bung-hole, and each time her ass opened, I saw that the log had moved closer to the--gate...!

"I had to watch out," I thought.

I know from personal experience: That, once the tapered-end of a solidified pregnant turd, which has come to "term", descends out of the lower colon into the anal ante-chamber; slithering relentlessly toward the "trigger-point" of the sphincter muscle, then all control of its "birth", is taken-out from conscious control of the-participant, and enters the realm of autonomic-response. It will, summarily, have passed the point-of-no-return...

Pandora's box will have been opened!

...And as mythology dictates, there's no way to shut it again before evil spirits and phantasms contained within, have escaped beyond the world of mystery and imagination--into the world of the pragmatist: Into the world of you and me--Into the world of---reality...!

Chapter 24. 

I finally tracked-down her clitoris, and grabbed it with my lips and teeth. Once trapped between my bite, I sucked it into my mouth hard and anchored it there again with my incisors, biting and sucking my way up her shaft, until I had it all inside my hot, sultry, mouth: I started ringing-its-bell, with the clapper of my wet, red, velvety tongue.

That's when I knew I had her, for her body started to shake and shudder, and she sat up on my face, back arched, neck thrown behind her. She paused, and there was a moment of utter silence, except for the white-noise torrents of running water, Then, she quaked and let out the most blood-curdling scream that one could hardly imagine. 

She was coming, and coming big!

I smelled a thick aroma of wet clay, mixed with mustard, and burnt toast.

Camel-Toe-Craner was coming so hard that she lost control of her sphincter muscle, and a huge log slithered out of her bung-hole. It flowed slowly down the center parting of my hair, and snaked its way across the running-water of the tiles. It was massive, at least 18 inches long and still coming, but the girth frightened me, it must have been a full 4.5 inches in diameter at its max. I thought for a moment that she had split her ass wide open, but what I thought was traces of blood, ended up being only tomato skins. The log was rough on the outer perimeter, and I gathered Mrs. Craner was vegan, eating corn, nuts vegetables, tomatoes, and the such. I saw all of this as it fell out of her bursting ring; she came right there in my face.

Craner toppled over, and I extracted myself from under her. I washed the debris of her log off my the top of my head in the warm shower's spray. I bolted out of the waterfall. Coach was still wriggling around in there coming and giving birth to a twin bowel-baby. I wiped quickly, brushed my hair and dressed in half a jiffy! I left just as I saw Craner rising up out of the steam from the floor of the shower. I was glad that she was vegan.

I put-up with her shitting logs in the shower for the rest of my time at college, twice a week, and many times she invited her friends on the faculty. I licked their cunts, and blew their cocks, and drank their come...by the pint! I got straight "A"s in everything.

I graduated valedictorian, and knew nothing. 

I almost choked on my graduation speech, mainly because I had just deep-throated the principle behind the podium's stage, and he came screaming down my throat. He knew it would be his last chance! He was rather rough. But that is just part of "my" past...

Chapter 25. (Back at the house, Megan confronts her daughter Francis.)

If you, dear lovely Francis, choose to repent though, and confess all of your naughty deeds and actions, then Megan, will listen. Although, punishment must [still have to] be administered, your state of--repentance--will be taken into consideration, and the severity of your debt shall be reduced. Penitence is redeemable of favor, under certain constraints of, arbitrary, moral policy. 

On the other hand; you choose to plead "not guilty", then Megan will insist on a thorough inspection of you and if, based on the findings, you are, indeed, found culpable of the charge of Naughtiness, then, the severity of the punitive action to be brought-down upon you will be set at the highest mark! The punishment; subsequently carried out without delay, and with full prejudice allowed under the Law!--Megan's Law, that is, my sweet sugar-coated little angel-cup: My, possibly, naughty little faery!

Come sweet child: I must now inspect your body.

Chapter 26.

Megan must look in all of your holes, tasting them, and sniffing at them, and she will have to kiss you; her red, hot, wet, velvety-smooth-proboscis flicking, deep and wild, inside your open mouth, rolling under and over your fluttering, quivering, traumatized tongue. Megan must hold your head back with both hands, so that your open mouth, is directly over the back of your throat. She must probe; thrusting her long snake-like tongue fully into you, until the tip of her wet muscle, slithers quietly down the back of your throat, and into your very esophagus. Once there, her gentle tongue will search for remnants of come, or the tell-tail sweet taffy-vanilla pang of foreign love-tunnel pie-cream.

If I detect that you have been a naughty girl, I will retract my long wet tongue out from deep inside your head, and order you to roll-over on you back. With one strike against you I will insist on tying your ankles and wrists behind the back of your neck.

Megan will inspect your breasts now. Smelling, and sucking their nipples for signs of activity. Be assured, if any one of the two of them have been bitten or sucked lately, Megan will know instantly. Her acute sense of smell and taste, is capable of detecting the slightest perfumed-whiff of lipstick deposit, inadvertently left behind by careless lovers, or even by yourself, as you pull-up your teats to suck them in the heat of vulgar passion. Again, if Megan finds anything incriminating, on your bosom, that too, will accrue as a black mark, and serve to go toward the ultimate decision, whether, or not, to administer the most sever punishment!

After all, dear Francis baby, naughty girls have to be punished--for their own good, don't you agree, sweet cherub?

Chapter 27. 

Now, honey, put this little rubber ball in your mouth, and Megan will secure it by slipping the adjustable elastic band over your head, and around the back of your lovely slender neck. Come now baby, open wide. Yes, that's a good little girl. We don't want to disturb the neighbors, with all screaming and pleading, now do we?

Anyway, you know it won't help you, all that crying and sobbing, and begging. And you're a big girl now--19 years young, Oh! My, how the years have flown... Why, it seems like only yesterday that I was wiping your little bottie, and powdering your sweet little fanny. 

Well, Yes, all of that crying and begging, and sobbing; well it--upsets Megan you see---and the last thing you want to do, is upset, the one with the cane, darling, so, for your own good baby, open up wide now, and lets pull mommy's rubber ball in pretty snug and tight my love: We don't want you to chip the enamel from your teeth now do we, my lovely naughty baby? That would be such a shame--to spoil that sweet, sweet, smile of yours; now wouldn't it my precious, little, misguided child?

That's right honey, just nod. Oh, I do love you so, so, much, and believe me when I say this my love, that what I am about to do to you, is going to hurt me much more than its going to hurt you! Or, on second thoughts, maybe not--but, it was a nice thought, don't you think? That's right baby, just continue nodding. Remember, at all times, I lo--ve you, and that you have brought all of this down upon yourself, and that I have taken valuable time out, to do this to you. Do you understand, my naughty little peach? Yes, that's a good little girl, just nod--Mommy understands her baby, yes, she does. Oh, Yes! Mommy does you know, oOoOoOW! Baby loves her little tummy to be rubbed, and tickled, Yes, she does. Oh! Mommy loves her little baby so, so, very much--even though Mommy's little baby has been very, very naughty, and has swallowed pints and pints of wet, creamy come: Shot down into her fat little fucking wobbly belly, now haven't you? You little whore! How many fucking times must Mommy tell you! Stop sucking the come out of those bastard's cocks, and stop licking your girlfriend's cunts, and ass-holes dry! You little strumpet! You are going to have to learn the hard way young lady. Oh! Yes! You will learn a good lesson today my girl. Do you understand your Mother when she is talking to you? Answer me now my girl...ANSWER ME--NOW, you little cunt! 

Yes baby, just nod: Yes! Just like that---Mommy loves you. You little bitch!

Chapter 28.

Megan walks slowly around her baby; all tied up, neat and quiet.

The clip, clop of her 6 inch stiletto heals clicking on the hardwood floor of the games room. Her baby girl, all tied up laying on her back on the pool-table, her taught buttocks hanging over the end of the rail: Her vulva, and bung-hole wide open to the world, to God--and to Megan's microscopic scrutiny.

The swish of the bamboo cane cut through the deathly silence of the room, and the rhythmic slap of it against her black-leather, thigh-high boots, ratcheted-up the tension to a nerve shattering breaking point, so much so, that Francis visibly shuddered with each and every crack.

Chapter 29.

Megan could smell the perspiration billowing up from her baby, and noticed her breathing was becoming deep and labored. Megan wondered why? Her baby, probably, wouldn't die...?

Megan came to a stop. Halting directly in front of her tied responsibility.

She stood there, looking down upon the pathetic creature, struggling for air.

It is going to be a great shame, to mark, and taint, such pristine, beautiful, unblemished buttocks as these: If, in fact, the creature is found to be--guilty--in toto!

But justice is blind... And even in a miscarriage of such basic Laws, it will do the creature, formally know as Francis, a world of good, in the endurance of it all, no matter what!

Hell, it may even--save her, by purging the blackness of desire from her cold heart, and the stain of lust from her soiled soul. Mommy only wants the best for her little love bunny.

Chapter 30.

Megan's eyes, glared out, from beneath her black upper face mask, and pierced, the frightened pupils of her panting creature at hand.

Her gaze, entered the dilated pupils, of her mark, like a dagger, entering the heart of a sacrificial virgin, high-up upon a cold, stone slab, atop a Mayan pyramid, of old.

Chapter 31.

The sacrificial creature, sensed, that she had underestimated the apparent degree of the anticipated action that was about to ensue here. She started to panic, and squirm, and voice objection, but to no avail.

This is why, tying the wrists and ankles, behind the neck, with the addition of the rubber ball gag, pulled tight into the open mouth, is a must, before the purging ceremony may, cordially, proceed.

Megan abhors undue fuss, especially the noise of it all.

Chapter 32.

After some time had passed, and the creature settled down again, Megan slowly raised the cane, and brought the tip of it to rest, ever so gently, between the cleavage of its breasts.

A visible shudder ran through Francis's torso. Her head snapped back, her spine arched, her eyes rolled in their sockets--. Francis's heart could be seen pumping erratically beneath her left knocker, and physically wobbled the cool mammary: Her nipples hardened, and she snorted powerful blasts of air out of her nostrils, struggling for oxygen, to feed her massive adrenalin rush; like a bull, goring at the earth, as the Matador prepares to invoke the Coup de grace, upon the urging of an ecstatic, expectant, crowd.

Chapter 33.

Megan's sympathetic autonomic response, showed-up, as her nipples constricted, and deepened in color, from pale crimson, to deep magenta red, growing out from the center of her nipple-less shiny black-vinyl bra. She felt a trickle of thick, creamy goo run down the inside of her fine thighs, driveling out of the red-laced-split, cut into her French crotch-less panties. The Anglo's fabric, struggling valiantly, to contain the turgid labial wings swelling, relentlessly, from inside the bulging outer lips of her shaven vulva.




Pride and Stubbornness



"Blonde, redhead, black hair, blue eyes, black hair, green eyes, dark hair, pale skin, curly hair . . . when is this going to stop!"

"Miss, please keep your voice down!"

Aurora blushed and ducked her head, only to realize she was standing in the middle of a massive pile of romance novels. 

Aurora had read romance novels before. The good ones had an intelligent, well rounded heroine, and a gorgeous male with muscles, at least eight inches, and a personality. There was only one problem: in every book the heroine was always a blonde, or a redhead, or had dark hair and brightly colored eyes. As someone living in a society where blondes had more fun, redheads were exotic, and dark hair and brown eyes were boring, she'd hoped that there would be at least one book in which someone as plain as she would have a chance at catching the gorgeous hunk of every fantasy. 

Not that she was plain. 

Aurora had long legs, good cheekbones, decent breasts, and full lips. Her eyes were almond shaped and a shade of brown so dark they shifted between chocolate and black, depending on the light and her mood. Her skin had one of those chameleon tones that shifted from a pale yellow to a rich golden brown depending on the season. Aurora chalked it up to her mixed heritage, a combination of Russian and Filipino. It was something she was proud of, despite years of being labeled a half breed. 

The victim of a bad relationship, Aurora hoped to find a fantasy to help her forget the combination of lousy sex, boring conversation, and emotional abuse that her association with Alexander David Pompeii, her deadbeat ex boyfriend, had been. 

There she stood, in the middle of the nearest bookstore, hoping to find a romance novel that had someone like her in the story. Someone with straight brown hair and brown eyes, who was too much of an egalitarian to put up with the "the man is always right" crap she found in so many historical romances. 

She'd been in the store over an hour and had yet to find anything. 

If it hadn't been for the anal retentive store clerk, she'd still be screaming in frustration. 

Aurora found the whole situation incredibly depressing. 

As she bent to pick up the discarded books, Aurora resigned herself to another night with a bag of candy bars. It was a dirty shame. 

She was just putting the last romance novel on the shelf when she felt a hand on her shoulder. The shock of it, the warmth of the hand combined with its strength had her stifling a shriek. Aurora cursed herself and with a calming breath, she turned around.

The man before her had Aurora's eyes nearly popping from her head. 

She looked down at the book in her hand and back up at the man. Standing in front of her was the spitting image of the guy on the cover. Aurora didn't know how to react, but as she was in an informal setting, she did what came naturally.

She bust out laughing.

"It's not that funny," the man said with a cynical twist of his lips. The hair was a bit shorter, and he seemed taller, the shoulders broader, but there was no denying it. This man was stereotypical romantic fantasy. 

"Oh yes it is," she said amidst peals of laughter.

"I did some modeling in college," he said wryly. "I didn't realize what the pictures were for. If anything, you should be embarrassed for wanting to read those books in the first place!"

Aurora managed to calm down enough to look at him with her most businesslike stare. The man had an air of arrogant derision that instantly put her off. 

"I'm sorry, who are you, and what business is it of yours what my literary preferences are?"

"I'd hardly call that crap literature," the man said dryly. "Are you Aurora Nemesis?"

"I am."

"And you are acquainted with Nicholas Lazarus," his voice was deep, his speech cultured. 

"His office called me this morning. Why is it of any interest to you?" she asked coldly. 

The man was striking, with rich dark brown hair, deep, stormy green eyes, and broad shoulders neatly packed into a dark grey business suit that emphasized his impressive height. There was something about him that made her want to pull his tie loose just to see what he looked like all mussed up, but his condescending demeanor instantly put her off. The man stank of money and breeding, which to her meant sexism, homophobia, and contempt for people of mixed blood.

"He's my friend," he replied as though it explained everything.

"I see."

Darcy was here in the interest of his best friend, the good natured but nervous head of Lazarus Biotech. He'd been duped into marrying a gold digger, and after a year of misery, he had finally mustered the courage to divorce his cheating, airhead wife. There were no children from the match because Paris Waldorf the Second didn't want to spoil her figure. There was however, the matter of money. 

The Waldorfs were one of North America's founding families, but extravagance and poor financial handling put them on the road to poverty. The family matriarch, Paris Waldorf the first, arranged the advantageous marriage of Nick Lazarus to the Waldorf's idiot daughter. It had taken weeks of training to instruct her on how to seem like the kind, well rounded person Nick went for, and the ploy had worked. Nick had fallen for it, hook, line and sinker. They'd been married less than a week before Paris the Second showed her true nature: stupid, shallow, spoiled, and like the village bicycle, everyone, male and female, had a ride. 

It took just over a year for Nick to muster the courage to leave her. The Waldorf matriarch was outraged and her army of lawyers was preparing for war. The attorneys, Darcy knew, weren't being paid for their labors. They'd been promised the spoils from Nick's company. Nick wanted a champion; someone cold hearted, conniving and devious; someone who'd fight to the death with his mother, not caring who got destroyed in his wake. Nick asked Darcy, and Darcy asked an old friend of the family, Judge Goldberg. 

The Judge, to Darcy's surprise, named a young woman, Aurora Nemesis.

"She's a killer, guaranteed. She'll chew Mrs. Waldorf up and spit her out. There'll be nothing left but her Birken bag," the Judge had told him, and with a smile he passed Darcy her contact info. 

So this, he'd thought cynically, was Miss Aurora Nemesis. She wasn't at all what Darcy was expecting. The judge had described her as cold and severe, with the type of no nonsense disposition ideal for dealing with his friend's domineering "soon to be ex" mother. Darcy expected someone short and dowdy with glasses, a butch hairdo, and thick hairy legs. He pictured someone who never laughed, never did anything for pleasure, and wore a business suit like a military uniform.

The woman before him wasn't like that at all. 

Her hair was dark and straight, neatly tied back, her lips were full; her skin a pale olive tone, and her brown, almond shaped eyes sparkled with intelligence. She seemed to be the type to laugh a lot, and had no qualms doing it at someone else's expense. She was roughly 5'7 in height, undoubtedly helped by the high heels she wore, and her slender body filled her grey pantsuit nicely. She wasn't ugly by any definition, but not beautiful enough to tempt him. 

"His office called you this morning, and you gave him an appointment for next Thursday. That will not do."

"So he sent you, an underling, to try and persuade me to take him sooner. Is that it? I'm very sorry Mr . . .?"

"Rochester, Darcy Rochester." Most people were impressed by the name. "And I am not an underling." 

"Whatever," Aurora said dismissively, "I am horribly sorry, but your friend will have to wait like everyone else."

His family was known and respected all over the world, but this woman didn't seem to care. 

"My friend is in the middle of a very ugly divorce. Judge Goldberg recommended you, and Mr. Lazarus needs your services immediately."

"I'm flattered, but I am very busy. I will see your friend next week as planned," she said, hoping it would get rid of him. Aurora waited patiently for him to leave, but Rochester stood his ground. 

"Would you be willing to put other clients aside until the matter is concluded?" 

Aurora ignored the question. "Why did he send you?"

"I volunteered," Rochester said, "because he is uncomfortable with your kind."

Aurora arched a brow. "Lawyers?"

"Killers," Rochester corrected, "Nick wanted someone ruthless and the Judge insisted that was you. I caught your secretary on his way out. He said I'd find you here."

The secretary in question had been a cartoon: a flaming homosexual in a bright pink shirt and tight black slacks. The man had stifled an unprofessional squeal when he saw him, and promptly told Rochester where to find her.

"Mr. Lazarus is willing to make you a generous offer to put your other clients aside until the matter is settled."

At the mention of money, her lips tightened as though he'd insulted her. That won her points in Darcy's eyes. He loathed bottom feeders.

"I am immensely flattered, but I am not easily bought. I am a very busy woman, so if you'll excuse me," she tried to move around him, but once again, Rochester stood his ground. 

"You're not busy now," Rochester corrected.

Aurora took a calming breath. "It's the end of the day... on a Friday, no less. I have been on my feet since five in the morning. I am exhausted, and I have neither the patience nor the inclination to deal with the likes of you right now, so kindly get out of my way."

Darcy changed tactics. It appeared that he'd caught her at a bad time, but that didn't mean his friend had to suffer. 

"He could have any lawyer, but he wants you. He's in a bar down the street, and he's desperate. Please don't make him suffer because I caught you in a bad mood. Have a drink with him and listen to the details. If after hearing him you'd still rather not take the case, you can refer him to one of your colleagues."

Aurora's features softened slightly at his plea, and with a sigh of resignation, she smoothed her clothes and picked up her briefcase. 

"One drink," she said curtly, "I'll look over his papers and make my decision." Darcy had no idea why he did it, but he found himself offering her his arm. She stared at it for a second as though it was a foreign object, and then she laughed, shook her head, and headed out of the store in front of him. 

He directed her to an Irish Pub minutes from the bookstore. Aurora didn't bother to hide her surprise. McLean seemed beneath a man like Darcy Rochester, who had the dress and manner of the arrogant hero of an old English novel. They walked in and moved to a table next to the front window, where a nervous man sat nursing his beer. The man smiled when he saw them, and ran a hand through his mussed blonde hair.

"I'm so glad you've agreed to see me, Miss Nemesis," he said, with an obvious tremor in his voice. 

"Call me Aurora," she said with a smile. There was something about the man that made her want to put him at ease. 

"I owe you one, Darcy . . . for bringing her," he said with a warm smile. The two had clearly been friends for years.

"Don't worry about it," was his friend's reply, "can I get you something to drink, Miss Nemesis?"

She was acutely aware of the heat of him as he sat beside her, but refused to acknowledge it or his inviting scent.

"One shot of vodka," she told him, and with a nod he turned to the approaching waitress and ordered her drink and a scotch for himself.

She chatted idly with Mr. Lazarus, and when the drinks came, she tossed hers back and demanded the details. She put on a pair of glasses and leafed through the papers he gave her, frowning at a lot of things, her brow arching at others. After a couple of minutes she pulled a pen and notebook from her briefcase and started scribbling. Darcy couldn't make heads or tails of her handwriting but she seemed to know what she was doing, and that was all that mattered. With a hum, Aurora put down her pen and was about to speak when a bottle blonde toothpick carrying a poodle in a designer bag in one hand and a cell phone in the other came storming in. 

"Oh my God!" the girl squealed when she saw them, "Mommy said that you were divorcing me! Nikipoo, it's not true is it? Don't you want to stay married to me?"

"I . . . no I don't" Nick said uneasily.

"But don't you love me? Don't you want to take care of me?" she screamed. "Nikipoo call off this whole thing! I didn't mean to screw the chauffeur . . . and your last intern . . . and my yoga instructor . . . and the guy who does my . . . "

"Sweetheart, you're making a scene," Nick gently interrupted. 

"I don't care!" Paris screamed, jumping up and down. 

"That's the ex-wife?" Aurora asked.

"Indeed," was Darcy's reply. He got up, intending to lead Paris out of the bar, but to his surprise, Aurora raised her hand.

"Allow me," she said politely, and got to her feet. In a gesture of chivalry, she stepped between Paris and Nick. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Paris demanded.

"Rochester, call Miss Waldorf a cab, please," she said calmly.

"No! I'm not going anywhere!" Paris insisted as Rochester opened his phone.

"Oh yes you are," Aurora corrected. "As you clearly lack the mental capacity to understand what's going on, I'll put it to you in baby terms. Nikipoo is divorcing you because you are a stupid spoiled whore. He has filed papers and will do everything in his power to make sure that you will never see a penny of his money. Now unless you want to embarrass yourself even further, I strongly suggest you get in that cab."

Next to Paris Waldorf's bulimia induced thinness and excessive make up, Aurora's gold skin glowed in the bar's dim light, and her beautiful curves flared despite her slender frame. It was like watching an Amazon Queen face off against a Barbie doll, one striking and exotic, and the other, cookie cutter plastic. As he watched the two women, Darcy's initial impression of Aurora shifted from one of ambivalence, to one of utter beauty. 

"How dare you! You fucking nobody whore! Do you know who I am?!" Paris moved to slap her, but Aurora caught her hand and twisted it behind the other woman's back.

"I know exactly who you are, and I don't give a damn," she said tersely. 

The blonde screamed and squealed and vowed vengeance, but Aurora ignored it. Darcy watched with a mix of horror and admiration as, with a death grip on Paris Waldorf's arm, she dragged her out of the bar and all but shoved her into the waiting cab.

Aurora returned to the bar to the sound of applause, and with a smile she wiped off her hands and took a theatrical bow. The waitress brought a fresh shot of vodka, compliments of the owner, and Aurora sat down and smiled.

"That felt really good," she said on a lusty sigh. "I'll take the case."

* * * It was probably the dumbest thing Aurora had ever said. She was already swamped with work and one more case was going to ruin her weekend. Not that she had anything planned, but she didn't want to spend another day off with her nose buried in a file. 

Aurora knew what did her in. She took one look at Nick Lazarus' and at the wife who'd so obviously duped him, and she had to give in. If there was one thing she hated, it was spoiled, vapid blondes. Her heart went out to the victim . . . and Darcy Rochester knew it. Nick Lazarus was brilliant, timidly cute, and conveniently rich. He was the ideal choice of mate for the first daughter of an impoverished old family because he seemed so monumentally naive. How his friend had allowed him to go through with the marriage was anyone's guess, and she thought even less of Rochester because of it. 

As she tossed back her second shot, she whipped out her cell phone and called Jimmy. Her secretary would be pissed about working this weekend, but she made more than enough money to be able to tempt him with a few extra dollars. An amateur esthetician in his spare time, Jimmy would insist on doing her hair and nails while working and she didn't mind at all. He often did beautiful work, and whatever she didn't like was easily removable with soap, water, and acetone. 

To Aurora's surprise, he was more than willing to help; his latest fuck buddy had cancelled their getaway and he had nothing better to do. 

"Thanks Jimmy. You've saved my ass."

"Remember that the next time I ask for a raise," was his grinning reply. With a laugh and a sigh of relief, she closed her cell phone and turned to her new client.

"Now, Mr. Lazarus let's discuss my fee. I am going to a great deal of trouble for you, so I'll be expecting triple my hourly rate."

"Anything," Lazarus said quickly.

"I think not," Darcy interjected.

Aurora's spine stiffened at his response; she turned toward him with an irritable twist of her lips. Darcy's heart rate jumped as those eyes narrowed on him, but he managed to seem cold and impassive.

"Nobody asked you," she said slowly.

"I am merely trying to prevent my friend from being cheated," he said gently.

"Then you should have stopped the marriage in the first place," was her reply.

Nick looked sick, and realizing what she'd said, Aurora immediately apologized, putting her narrow fingers over his in attempt to reassure him. Rochester, for his part, looked wounded, but Aurora didn't care. If his friend had intervened, they wouldn't be in this mess to begin with. 

Darcy wanted to stop the marriage, but he didn't want to become his namesake by breaking up two people who seemed to love each other. He'd been right about Paris Waldorf, and the guilt was killing him. He knew Nick would have broken things off if only he'd said something. That's why it had been imperative that he hire Aurora Nemesis. If she was the killer the judge had described, then she was the one to get his friend out of this as neatly as possible. At her stinging reply, he bowed out of the negotiations and nursed his scotch. While she spoke with Nick, he scanned the women in the bar. There were any number of pretty faces welcoming his idle scrutiny, but to his irritation, he felt nothing. He looked back at his friend's divorce lawyer and felt an uncomfortable tug in his gut. Darcy didn't believe in love at first sight, but he couldn't think of any rational explanation for what he was feeling. Of this, she seemed completely unaware; her attention was focused solely on his friend. She smiled warmly when he stuttered, and reassured Nick that he would get out of the marriage unscathed. He should have been pleased, but he wasn't. He was jealous of her smiles, and the way she warmed so easily to his friend and not to him. Darcy shrugged philosophically. He'd long since accepted that he didn't have that kind of charm.

She agreed to see Nick first thing Monday morning and announced her plan to leave. Like a perfect gentleman, Darcy stood when she got up and offered to drive her home. He wanted her attention on him, if only for a moment.

"That's unnecessary," she said politely, "I can take public transit," 

"It's dangerous for a young lady to be out at this hour," Darcy said to her obvious irritation. He suspected that a nastier refusal was on the tip of her tongue when Nick stepped in on his behalf. As though on cue, thunder sounded outside and rain beat against the bar's heavy windows. 

Darcy was beginning to think it was fate.

"Let Darcy drive you home, Aurora," Nick said hastily. "He'll be a perfect gentleman or he'll here it from me in the morning!"

Aurora sincerely doubted Nick could do anything to make Darcy Rochester suffer. Nick was several inches shorter, with narrower shoulders. The man came off as too nice for his own good, but she was beginning to realize that Nick's gentle, persuasive charm was its own kind of power. Much to her irritation, Aurora realized she wouldn't refuse this man anything. 




Pride and Stubbornness



It was the second time that evening that she'd given in, and she didn't like it, but with a sigh, she picked up her briefcase, and bid Lazarus goodnight. 

Darcy was quiet as they walked to his car in the pouring rain and she was grateful. She didn't like they way he'd loomed over her while she was working, quietly assessing, and probably judging her. She'd seen his horror at how she treated Nick's wife, and the contempt with which he'd eyed the bar's patrons. The man was a snob and a half, and she didn't want spend another minute with him. 

As she suspected, he drove a classy black Mercedes, and even opened the door for her. When he was safely behind the wheel, she gave him her address half an hour from downtown. 

"So what were you doing in the bookstore?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence. 

"Wasn't it obvious? I was looking for some crap to read," she hoped that would shut him up.

"Why?"

"Why do you want to know?" 

"All I know is that you're a killer. I'd like to know more,"

"Alright, it's not like I'll see you again, anyway,"

Darcy had no intention of letting that happen, but he didn't say as much.

"I'm thirty two years old. I come from an upper middle class, half Asian family, and I was looking for a romance novel to ease the pain and frustration in the aftermath of a bad relationship,"

"How long has it been since the break up?"

Aurora shrugged.

"A few months; not that it matters. It wasn't love...it wasn't even lust," she said with bitter cynicism.

Darcy smiled, silently elated she wasn't attached.

He pulled up to her home, a 1920s style brick house, and watched her as she fumbled with the seatbelt. 

"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Rochester" she said politely, jerking the belt open with a grunt of frustration. 

"Darcy" he corrected.

"I barely know you," she said with her hand on the door handle. She was half soaked from the walk to the car. She wanted to go inside, put on a pair of pajamas and go to bed, not carry on an awkward conversation with a man who belonged on the cover of a bodice ripper.

"Fair enough; let me walk to you to your door. You're shivering and I have an umbrella,"

"You can't help it, can you?" 

"Help what?" 

"That 'perfect gentleman' thing; you can't help it can you?"

"I suppose not" he said laconically. 

Darcy grabbed his umbrella and followed her out of the car. He moved close to her, shielding her from the rain and she tensed as they reached her doorstep. Aurora reached for her keys, cursing as she rummaged around for them.

"Thanks for agreeing to help" Darcy said.

"You're a loyal friend" she replied with a smile. Ignoring him now, she found her keys and slid them into the lock. Aurora had her hand on the door handle. She intended to dismiss Darcy and go inside, but looking up at his face, she stilled. 

Those intense green eyes were focused on her, and something in her belly clenched in response. Aurora felt incredibly awkward. They were at the door; why the hell wasn't he leaving?

She didn't have much time to ponder that question, because Darcy reached behind her and pulled out her elastic. As he slid his fingers into her hair and tilted her head back, her briefcase hit the floor, and her mind went blissfully, deliciously blank. 

The kiss was tentative at first. 

Darcy wanted a taste, just one taste to get him through the night...and then she let out the tiniest of moans and he deepened the kiss. Her hand fisted in his jacket, jerking him closer and he gasped, pleased with her strength. Lost now, he slid an arm around her waist, wallowing in the taste of her.

"I need you," he murmured against her gasping lips, and she pulled away, staring at him with a mixture of arousal and confusion.

"This is crazy. I don't even know you," she said, and then to his surprise, she took his face in her hands and kissed him again. It was a mystery of human chemistry he didn't fully understand; that your true mate, that cosmic lover pre assigned, tasted and felt like home; at once soothing and potently arousing. His arm tightened around her waist, wanting to lose himself in her strength when, with equal ferocity, she pulled away.

"I am so sorry" she said shakily, wincing with embarrassment. "I never do this. I'll take care of your friend, but I hope we can forget about this,"

Before Darcy could even respond, she'd rushed inside and disappeared, leaving him staring at the door. 

This whole situation was crazy, and God help him, he had it bad.

***

"You're hiding something," Jimmy said the following afternoon, eyeing his boss with suspicion. They'd been working all day, and throughout the day, Aurora would pause, as though remembering something, take a deep breath, blush, and shake her head, as though waking from a dream.

"I am not," 

"Spill it, Nemesis!"

Aurora did that lip licking thing she did when she was irritated. Then she sighed.

"I made out with Darcy Rochester" she said with a bowed head. 

"You mean the GORGEOUS guy who came looking for you yesterday? What the hell is wrong with you! You look like you're embarrassed!"

"I am"

"What the hell for?" Jimmy screamed.

"Because he's rich, and from a prestigious family and—"

"To hell with that! What was it like?"

Aurora did that head shaking thing again.

"It was... amazing" the man tasted incredible and kissed better than any fantasy. She'd become oblivious to him until they'd kissed, and now... "Oh hell! It doesn't matter anyway. I don't plan to see him ever again!"

"It's a shame..." Jimmy said sadly.

"Sure, a damn dirty shame," she muttered cynically. "Let's get to work"

***

The next few weeks were a blur. Aurora got Nick neatly out of his marriage with his money intact, and thankfully saw nothing of Darcy Rochester. Lazarus paid her fee and more than pleased with her work, he referred her and her firm to all his wealthy colleagues. Despite the taxing ordeal, or perhaps because of it, she and Nick had become fast friends. As Nick's friend, Aurora knew she wouldn't able to dodge Darcy forever, but with extreme discipline and a mind crushing workload, she managed to push the incident to the back of her mind. 

"Do me a favor?" Nick asked shyly one day over lunch.

"Within reason" Aurora replied.

"There's this charity ball I have to go to. Would you come with me?"

Aurora stared at him as though he'd grown a second head.

"A charity event..." she said slowly, not bothering to hide her disgust.

"It's something I go to every year as part of the whole 'wealthy businessman' routine. I normally go with my wife, but—I don't have one anymore," he said uneasily, shoving his fingers through his hair.

"You're much better for it," Aurora said reassuringly, gently tapping his hand with a fingertip. "Go stag to this thing. With your looks you'll probably be considered the most eligible bachelor in town."

"I don't want to deal with all the questions and gossip. Come with me...please?" he begged.

Aurora couldn't stand that look because she couldn't say no to it.

"This isn't a date is it?" she asked suspiciously.

"Good God No!" Nick replied instantly. "Nothing personal, Aurora, but after all I've been through, dating is the last thing on my mind. Please come with me...I'll make it up to you,"

Aurora sighed.

"Where and when?"

Nick brightened instantly. 

"Friday; be ready by seven. I'll pick you up"

***

"I HATE these events," Aurora growled at the mirror while Jimmy put the final touches on her hair. 

"But you look fabulous!"

Aurora stared at herself in the mirror and frowned. The dress was floor length ruby red satin with a high slit up the side, and left her back bare save for two straps that crossed between her shoulder blades. It wasn't something she would have chosen for herself, but Aurora admitted Jimmy had impeccable taste. He'd done her hair up, crammed her feet into high heels, and painted her lips to match the dress. 

"You did a good job," she admitted, and in response Jimmy smiled and handed her a red beaded bag.

At that moment, a silver Porsche pulled up in front of her house. Like the perfect gentlemen, Nick opened the door and waved.

"Be sure to lock up" she told Jimmy, and with a deep breath she headed outside.

*** 

Aurora hated formal events. 

They were always full of the same people: middle aged businessmen, trophy wives, and aging patriarchs. If you took the combined personality of the room and multiplied it by a thousand, you might have something as interesting as a documentary on socks. These people, she thought cynically, were society's big decision makers. They gave money to just about every group that asked, but they wouldn't be caught dead with any of them. The charity 'du jour' was Cold Youth, an organization that specialized in getting street kids into stable homes and schools. "I feel like I'm going into a shark pool" she murmured.

"How do you think I feel?" Nick replied nervously. He reached for her hand, and she took it and squeezed briefly.

Steeling herself against the whispers of women in the room, she made the rounds with Nick. They said hello to all the people he had to, and stayed silent while he chatted business with the old patriarchs. Aurora wished she had a watch. One evening was beginning to feel like an eternity...and just when she thought things couldn't get worse, Darcy Rochester walked in. She knew, because she all but felt him.

His tux was immaculate of course, and on his arm was a smiling young blonde ten years his junior. Aurora turned her back, hoping he hadn't seen her, but he simply moved in front of her.

"How are you this evening, Miss Nemesis?" he asked.

"Very well, thank you" she answered stiffly. 

Aurora looked beautiful tonight. 

When she had first seen him she turned her back, revealing an expanse of smooth gold skin that all but stopped his heart. She was here as Nick's date, a fact that would have angered him if he hadn't seen the way his friend was eyeing his sister. Aurora tried smiling at him but it looked more like a grimace. Darcy couldn't blame her; their last encounter didn't make things easy between them. 

"Lucy! My God! I haven't seen you since you were twelve!" Nick exclaimed, eyeing his sister with the kind of rapt admiration one usually reserved for divas.

"Lucy?" she asked with a lift of her brow. 

"My sister" Darcy replied, introducing them. Aurora's features softened with what looked like relief. She looked from him to his sister, trying to discern similarities between them, and she must have found some because Aurora smiled warmly.

"Nice to meet you, Lucy; are you enjoying the party?"

"I don't really enjoy these things," Lucy admitted sheepishly. "I'd rather be out with friends, but my brother didn't have a date."

Darcy watched as Aurora enjoyed another laugh at his expense. Apparently that was all it took to win her friendship, and he stared at his sister with admiration while she chatted it up with his dream girl. Nick, he realized, much to his irritation, was watching Lucy with puppy dog eyes. 

His sister was only twenty three and Nick was fresh out of a bad marriage. This didn't bode well to Darcy. 

He was about to intervene when Aurora announced that Nick owed her a dance. "I didn't know you danced..." Nick began.

"I don't" she said amicably, grabbing his hand, "teach me". 

As it seemed like the only way to avoid boring, awkward conversation, Darcy followed suit, pulling his sister onto the dance floor. 

"She's gorgeous, brother," Lucy told him as they waltzed effortlessly across the floor, "but she doesn't seem to like you,"

"I have that effect on people," he answered dryly, watching Lucy's mouth twist in a frown. "She's not indifferent" he added, remembering the ferocity with which she'd kissed him, "but she hasn't had a chance to get to know me, either" 

"You didn't give her one, Darcy. You shouldn't have backed off like that. She probably thinks it was a fluke,"

"She was busy with Nick's divorce. I didn't want to bother her,"

His sister stared at him with that look she'd perfected in her early teens; the you're an idiot look.

"When it comes to women, you're not normally such a colossal moron," Lucy said thoughtfully. "Why is this one any different?"

"I actually care," he muttered irritably, hating it when she was right. "What am I supposed to do now?" 

Lucy smiled slowly. "That's easy; the band's about to play a slow one. Switch partners,"

"But Nick's got a..."

"I can handle it,"

With a nod of surrender, Darcy spoke to Nick over Lucy's shoulder. With a smile and a blush, Nick gave in, and they smoothly switched companions. 

"Thanks a lot, Darcy," Aurora murmured irritably.

"You look annoyed with me" he said cautiously, surprised at how easily she fit in his arms.

"I was trying to help you. You clearly don't like Nick ogling your sister. I dragged him onto the dance floor to get him away from her,"

"My sister can take of herself," he said dryly, looking over her shoulder to make sure Nick's hands were at waist level. "But I appreciate the gesture."

"You'd better, I can't dance" she muttered, gasping when his fingers grazed her back. The move sent a tingle straight up her spine, and she cleared her throat, trying to shake it off. "Your fingers are callused," Aurora said, not bothering to hide her surprise. Men like him typically had smooth hands with perfect manicures. This wasn't the case with Darcy Rochester. The fingers gently caressing her back were man hands: big, strong, and rough with calluses.

"I blame it on a mix of fencing, riding, and woodcarving," he said.

"I can see you doing the first two...but woodcarving?"

Darcy smiled slightly. He was one of those men who rarely smiled, and when he did it was more with his eyes than with his mouth. It made him that much more disarming, and despite herself, Aurora relaxed in his arms.

"It's a hobby I picked up during my rebellious youth...you look stunning" he said.

"Thank you" she said, trying not to be pleased. "What other scandalous activities did you take up?" 

"Martial arts, sculpting and a couple of other things my parents didn't really approve of...Do my calluses bother you?" he touched her back again, and she couldn't help sucking in a breath.

"Not at all" her voice sounded unusually high to her ears. Aurora shut her eyes, trying to purge thoughts of what those calluses would feel like on other parts of her body. 

"I don't want to forget about what happened a few weeks ago" Darcy said abruptly.

Aurora stumbled in her high heels, and Darcy moved to catch her. The gesture forced their bodies even closer on the dance floor and Aurora placed her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. She marveled at his strength for a moment, inhaled the scent of cologne and man when she realized the music had stopped.

"Thank you for a wonderful dance, Mr. Rochester,"

"Darcy" he corrected.

"Right...join me in the ladies' room, will you Lucy?" she called after his sister, gently taking her by the arm. Lucy barely had time to accept before Aurora rushed them away. Darcy stared after her, wondering how such an intelligent woman could pretend to be so thickheaded.

"I believe thanks are in order," Nick said as they headed towards the bar.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you, thanking me, for bringing her," 

"I don't understand"

"I'm not blind, Darcy. I saw the way you were looking at her the night I hired her. I could have gone to this thing alone, but I didn't. I brought her here for you!"

"Thank you" was all he could manage.

"Good. I'm having a party up North next weekend. I'll invite her, and you'll bring your sister--"

"Now wait just one minute!"

"Don't screw it up Darcy, I like her," Nick said stubbornly, and Darcy knew the matter was closed.

***

"My brother said you were screaming in the middle of the romance section when he met you."

"Screaming is a bit of an exaggeration," Aurora said carefully.

"Oh. Why were you screaming?"

"Because I was hoping for a romance novel that would cater to someone like me."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Have you ever read those things?"

"A few," Lucy admitted.

"All the heroines are either redheads, or have exotic dark hair and bright blue or green eyes or look like . . . well . . . you. No offense."

"None taken; but why would you read those things in the first place?"

Aurora shrugged. "Romance doesn't happen in real life. Bad boys are deadbeats and gorgeous rich guys cower before even richer parents who don't want their precious bloodlines tainted by ethnics or the middle class. You probably hate me now don't you?" she asked cautiously. She expected to see anger and reproach in the other woman's eyes, but she didn't. She saw sympathy.

"You've obviously been burned before," Lucy said thoughtfully, "but don't write Nick and Darcy off because of it." 

Aurora smiled slightly, sadly, and took Lucy by the hand.

"Come on, I'm sure Nick's dying to see you!"

On a laugh the women left the bathroom, only to find their dates facing off against a woman as old as she was ugly. 

The Waldorf matriarch was as mean as she was grotesque. Her five feet, four inch frame was covered with ugly fat with growths and age spots that the best make up artists couldn't conceal. Picture Jabba the Hut in Donna Karan.

As Aurora and Lucy approached, Paris Waldorf the First's already cold eyes sharpened to dagger points.

"Nemesis, what are you doing here?"

"She's my date," Nick said nervously.

Mrs. Waldorf's mouth twisted with disdain.

"As I suspected . . . Nicholas, you should be ashamed of yourself! You abandoned a perfectly respectable wife to cavort with an impoverished half breed!" 

Aurora's muscles tightened and Lucy put a hand on her arm, trying to reassure her. Around them, people began to stare.

"You should know better!" Mrs. Waldorf continued, behaving as though Aurora wasn't there. "Is the Lazarus fortune to be so tainted by the mongrel children of the South Pacific?"

"That's enough!" said a voice. Aurora turned her jaw dropping as Darcy Rochester stepped between her and Mrs. Waldorf. "Mrs. Waldorf, pray tell me, what year is it?"

"I don't see what that has to do with anything . . . "

"Humor me," Darcy said his voice ripe with irony. 

"Its 2006," Mrs. Waldorf replied.

Darcy's head cocked in acknowledgment. "Well then perhaps you should return to the eighteenth century where you belong. Your opinions are about two hundred years out of date . . . but I suppose you can't help it, can you? You're what, five hundred years old?"

Lucy coughed, Nick cleared his throat, and the room echoed with soft chuckles and strangled laughs. Aurora could only stare as Mrs. Waldorf stormed off, shouting about how she'd never been treated that way in her entire life. 

She looked at Darcy, her heart hammering in her chest, and for the first time saw beyond his wealth and prestige. He defended her without a care for the opinions of business associates and fellow members of the modern aristocracy and something bloomed in her chest, melding with the already complicated attraction. When he offered her his hand Aurora stared down at it, as if she couldn't tell what it was.

"I'm not going to sleep with you just because you defended me!" she said instantly. Then she stopped short, as though realizing what she'd said, and hastily announced that she had to leave. With what looked like a curtsy, she made her apologies to Nick and Lucy and bolted out of the ballroom like a bat out of hell. 

"Go after her, you idiot!" Lucy told him as Darcy ran, but Aurora was fast on her feet. By the time he'd reached the bottom of the front steps, she was already in the cab and driving away. Breathless and heartsick, Darcy looked down at the sidewalk. 




Pride and Stubbornness



At his feet was a single, shiny black high heel. 

With a smile, he picked it up and went back inside.

***

It had been a horrible evening. 

First she had to face off against Jabba the Waldorf, and then she accused Darcy Rochester of something he probably wasn't guilty of, and to top it all off she'd lost her goddamn shoe! 

She'd seen the hurt in his eyes at her accusation and it made Aurora feel horrible.

She had to apologize; there was no getting around it, but she wasn't the type to do so easily. She tried sleeping, but tossed and turned for over an hour. Aurora tried again, hearing the rain start, listening to each drop in the hope that the rhythm would put her to sleep before she finally let out an exasperated scream and got out of bed. 

She showered quickly, scrubbing her hair with a ferocity most people used to clean pans, and pulled on a bra, tank top, and jeans. She slipped on a pair of running shoes, glossed her lips, and headed into the pouring rain toward her Miata. She knew exactly where she was going. 

She knew it was rude to drop in on him at two in the morning, but she couldn't let the guilt keep her awake any longer. As she drove in to one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in the city, Aurora took a deep breath. She'd be facing a man none too pleased at being pulled out of bed, but she'd made her decision and was sticking to it.

The neighborhood was dark, as though the rain had caused a power failure. She had difficulty navigating but Aurora managed to make it into Rochester's driveway unscathed. She paused as she turned off her car and ran her fingers through her damp hair. With a deep breath, she got out of the car.

Around her, rain fell in torrents. By the time she reached the doorstep of Rochester House, every attempt she'd made at her appearance had been washed away. To her surprise the door opened almost immediately, and she couldn't help gasping at what she saw.

There Darcy stood, in jeans, a bathrobe, and white shirt hanging open, revealing his gorgeous chest. His brown hair was tousled; he held a brass candlestick in his free hand, the flame illuminating his handsome features. Once again he looked like the textbook romantic hero, and Aurora couldn't help but laugh.

"I hope you didn't come all this way to laugh at me," he said dryly. 

Aurora took a calming breath, and shook her head. "I came to apologize. May I come in?"

Darcy didn't answer, he simply stepped back, allowing her entry. She stepped into the lavish foyer and winced as her rain soaked shoes squished beneath her. With a shy smile, she toed out of them.

"What's with the candlestick?" she asked him.

"Power failure," he replied.

"You don't have a generator?"

"We've been having some trouble with it lately so I'm dealing with it the old fashioned way. You're soaking."

"Yeah."

"I've got a fire going in the living room. Why don't we go there so you can warm up?" he suggested, leading her to a living room with plush leather couches and thick Persian rugs. Facing the sofa was a massive fire place. The house, she realized with an amused sense of irony, looked like a castle, inside and out. She was warming herself in front of the fire when Darcy nudged her back. He was holding two snifters of brandy.

"That's not necessary . . . " she began.

"You're shivering. Please . . . for my sake?" 

Aurora took the glass and sipped it slowly; looking into those stormy green eyes with all the courage she could muster. "You're being too nice to me, Rochester. You stood up for me and instead of thanking you I accused you of ulterior motives. It was unfair of me, and I'm sorry."

She looked so beautiful, so miserable, standing in front of him with that apology in her eyes. He wanted to kiss her, strip the wet clothes from her body and warm her with his own, but he didn't. He simply nodded. 

"Apology accepted . . . but now I have to make a confession," he said, pleased to see her eyes widen. Darcy had seen that hungry look on her face when he'd opened the door. He'd seen the longing in her eyes when he defended her. 

She was his. She just didn't know it yet. 

"I spoke with my sister after you left and she revealed the details of your conversation. Judging by what she told me and your hesitation where I'm concerned, I'm going to take a few guesses and you can tell me if I'm wrong, ok?"

Aurora nodded dumbly.

"You met a man of considerable wealth and stature. You fell in love, and planned to get married. His parents found out and started hurling racial and financial slurs at you. They picked on your appearance, your manners, and your professional integrity and threatened to cut him off if he married you. He dumped you and it's made you bitter where people with money are concerned. Am I right?"

She nodded again.

"You've made similar assumptions about me, and as a result, have avoided me like the plague."

"I said I was sorry," she said with a frown.

"And I accepted your apology. Nonetheless, there are a few things you should know. My parents are dead, and even if they were alive they wouldn't care who I married as long I was happy. I am the head of my family, and who I see is my own Goddamn business, understand?"

She didn't like his tone of voice, but she nodded slowly. With a shaking hand she brought the glass to her lips and took a healthy gulp. 

"You've been snapping at me since the moment we've met, assuming I'm something I'm not. Despite all this, I like you Aurora, so here's what's going to happen: I'm going kiss you, what happens next is entirely up to you."

He was in front her so swiftly Aurora had no time to respond. His lips were on hers, prying them apart in a kiss so intense, so hungry, all she could do was suck in a breath. The snifter fell from her hands, and with arms as limp as spaghetti, she raised them, resting her hands on his chest. The feel of his muscles, the crisp hair, the texture and scent of his skin had her reaching under his shirt, moaning her approval. Darcy's hands reached up to her jaw and with firm hands he pulled their faces apart. 

"This isn't right," he said.

"What the hell are you talking about?" she demanded, aroused beyond reason "I want you, you want me. What's more right than that?" she asked, breathing heavily. Darcy stared at her for a second, and then with a look of determination he scooped her into his arms and made his way toward the staircase. 

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"Carrying you to my bed. You're not afraid of a little romance, are you?"

Aurora tensed opened her mouth to answer but he sealed her lips with a kiss. Unlike his first assault, this one was slow and sweet, sucking every thought from her head as he carried her effortlessly up the stairs. When he broke the kiss, she looked around. They were in his room where a single candle burned, illuminating the massive four poster bed. 

When he set her on her feet, Aurora moved to undress him, but only got as far as his shirt and bathrobe before he kissed her again. Lost in the scent, the taste, and the feel of him, she didn't notice her jeans hit the floor, and only when he broke the kiss did she realize that her shirt and jacket were gone. His fingers slid lightly up her thigh, and as Aurora gasped and bit Darcy's neck, her bra hit the floor. The world dipped and she was on her back, naked, in Darcy Rochester's bed. She wondered for a moment how she got there, and then Darcy touched her and she couldn't think at all.

"You are so lovely," he said softly, cupping her breasts in his hands. Aurora moaned in response, arching her back when he rubbed his thumbs lightly against her nipples. She writhed, wanting more, but Darcy had already moved his hands. They slid over her tensed stomach, down her thighs, his calluses teasing the back of her knees. 

All the while he kissed her deeply, caressed her neck and collarbone with his lips and teeth, reveling in her hunger, and the frenzied moves of her hands over his body. Aurora responded to his every touch, his every caress, and though she moaned for more, he held back, wanting her to feel an inkling of what he felt for her. He never dreamed he'd have her in his house, in his bed so swiftly, but as far as he was concerned she was never leaving. 

"Touch me," she begged at last. 

Painfully hard, he slid three fingers inside her and watched her scream as she came. Her nails raked his back as her hips rocked frantically against him, but Darcy ignored the pain. Unable to hold back any longer, he lifted one of her legs, resting her ankle on his shoulder, and, kneeling above her, he slid slowly, deeply inside her. 

"Oh God!" she cursed, arching her back and tightening around him, "fuck me!"

"I will," Darcy said, "but you have to look at me when I do it. Open your eyes."

Aurora's eyes wouldn't open. In response, Darcy made one shallow thrust, his muscles tensing against the pleasure.

"Open your eyes," he repeated, but once again, Aurora silently refused. He rubbed his fingertip against her clit, and the contact had her stifling a scream. 

"Look at me," he ordered. 

Aurora bit her lip as he made another shallow thrust, but she finally opened her eyes. Darcy smiled slightly in satisfaction and kneeling above her, his eyes locked to hers, his hand on her knee, he began to move. Beneath him, Aurora arched her back, gasping as her muscles tightened around him with every thrust. She moved like a woman possessed, and Darcy gritted his teeth, intending to make the pleasure last. 

She felt so right around him, so hot, so wet, so tight, moving with him as though they'd made love hundreds of times before. Her eyes were clouded with her arousal, but as she came for the second time that evening, her expression changed, as though she suddenly read something other than excitement in his eyes. Her expression became tender, almost hopeful, and when she screamed her pleasure, there were tears in her eyes. Those tears were his undoing and Darcy moved immediately to kiss them away. As her lips parted beneath his, she tightened around him, screaming, and her legs locked around his hips. The feel of all that strength wrapped around him, the sound of her screams, was too much.

"I love you, Aurora," he said, and with a hoarse cry, he emptied himself into her. 

***

How in the hell, Aurora wondered, did she get here? 

She was in Darcy's bed, naked, her muscles lax from the most mind blowing sex she'd ever had, and all she could think about was how to get out of there. Then she looked at Darcy, sleeping comfortably on his back, his face illuminated by the light of the dying candle, and all she could think about was climbing on top of him and doing it all over again. This was crazy! She barely knew him; she wasn't even sure she liked the guy, and yet she'd been totally and utterly seduced. 

This wasn't good. Aurora needed some clarity, and fast. 

She pulled on her underwear, bra, and jeans and watched the rise and fall of his chest. His hair was tousled, his face serene. Darcy wasn't a total stranger to her. She knew he was fiercely loyal to his friends, and had thrown himself between her and the most judgmental people on the planet. He was smart, honest, and considerate, with the kind of dry wit that allowed him to insult with a finesse she admired. He could suck the blood from her head with a kiss, and, she realized with shocking clarity, that aloofness she'd initially pegged as disdain was actually shyness. Darcy was shy, but unlike Nick, who made no pretense of it, the man sleeping before her hid it behind an air of cold derision . . . and then Aurora realized something else. 

Darcy said he loved her, and he'd meant it; she'd seen it in his eyes. The wave of panic the memory caused had Aurora bolting for the door. 

She had her hand on the bedroom doorknob when something on his dresser caught her eye. 

It was a shiny black heel. 

"Do you remember the story of Cinderella?" Darcy asked from behind her. He was out of bed, dressed in jeans, the hurt in his eyes causing a painful lump in her throat. 

"Yes."

"The prince falls in love at the first sight of her; the woman destined to be his. She is beautiful, and sad, and so doubtful of her own worth that the moment anyone would question her right to be at that ball, she flees"

Aurora's chest tightened painfully, whether it was from fear or hope she wasn't sure. 

"What she doesn't seem to realize is that she's better than all of them, and the prince knows it the instant he sees her. He holds on to her shoe because he doesn't know if he'll ever see her again. In order for her to come forward to try on the slipper, she has to see what he sees and understand that what he feels for her is real."

"We barely know each other," she said, her voice shakier than she would have liked. 

"Don't tell me you don't believe in love in love at first sight."

"I don't," she said, slowly. Darcy was very close now; so close she could smell him, and in spite of herself, Aurora's mouth watered. 

"Liar."

"Back off!" Aurora said desperately, trying her damndest to think clearly.

"I have no intention of backing off. I love you Aurora and you can argue with me until you're blue in the face, but you love me too. It's written all over your face, so you might as well stuff whatever argument you were planning on making. You're not getting rid of me, so take your clothes off and get back in my bed!"

Aurora's eyes widened and Darcy suspected that his audacity would earn him a slap in the face. His heart hammered in his chest. He had everything riding on this, and with a deep breath, he braced himself for a punch in the face and a heavy dose of heartbreak. With a look of determination, Aurora moved toward him, her eyes narrowed to slits; for every step she took, he took one step back, until his knees hit the foot of the bed. One move of Aurora's leg and he was on his ass on the bed, with her jumping on top of him. He felt a moment's panic before he got a good look at her face. 

She was laughing.

"Damn I like you!" she laughed, her legs pinning both his arms. Leaning forward, she pressed her grinning mouth to his.

Darcy smiled.

"So tell me, you want a big wedding or something small?" he asked.

Aurora threw up her hands. 

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, ok Darcy. I'm more concerned with the here and the now . . . and for now, I'm on top."

For the first time since they'd met, Darcy laughed. It looked like they'd be living happily ever after . . . and he wouldn't have it any other way.



Pride Goeth Before The Fall



Thanks to editor Bobby Faul.

*

My wife is a proud woman proud of; her beauty thanks to her Nordic heritage and an hour a day in the gym before work, her studies she holds degrees in business and art, her work she is a graphic artist in the advertising business and as a dancer. I would not consider her conceited, but she is extremely competitive. Her blond almost white hair worn shoulder length and 34-24-34 frame causes most male eyes to turn in her direction whenever she passes. 

I love her dearly but, have no idea why she chose me five years ago out of all the men who wanted her. I know how many men try to make some traction with her and accept it as the price of being married to an attractive woman. 

I don't have a jealous bone in my body and I trust her implicitly. She has never given me any reason to doubt her faithfulness since we have been together. It seems that she made a commitment to me that is forever and I to her. 

A vice president of her firm made a run at her two years ago and she waited until it became irritating and she sent a memo to the CEO that she was considering a lawsuit if he didn't back off and no one there has bothered her since. 

I am six foot two inches tall and weigh the same 198 pounds that I did when I played wide out in college thanks to the same hour in the gym as my wife. I found a new way to control voltages in low tolerance precision circuits my second year of grad school which I patented from which I receive royalties of between 50 and 75 grand a year. I hold a B.S. and an M.S. in electrical engineering and am employed by a maker of aeronautical instrumentation. We are more than comfortable. We live in a loft in the downtown area. We like to be close to work and night life. We reserve Friday night as date night to renew our commitment to each other and have fun.

Recently two of her best friends from college moved back to the city which bought all six of her best buddies together again and we started getting together on weekends barbeques or parties at each others places. 

Which brings us to the problem it seems three of her friends had been getting together on Thursday after work going out to dinner and then to a bar for a girls night out kind of thing. 

When the other two returned to town they to joined that group and my wife asked if she could join them.

Four of the girls were married and one was single so of course I said," have fun". The first time she went when she came home she seemed a little down. I asked her what was wrong. 

She said," she wanted to dance but was only asked twice while the other girls were knee deep in partners". 

I asked her to tell me about the two she had danced with. 

"They were both too forward for me one grabbed my butt and the other but his hand on my tit, she said". 

"What did you do" I asked? "I shot them both down" she replied. 

"Well that's probably why no one else asked you news travels fast in a place like that, guys come there to get lucky when its obvious they're not going to they quit trying" I explained. "Then there's that normal thing guys have with girls who are beautiful, they figure they are going to get shot down and don't try" I continued. "So you shot down two of the guys who weren't afraid and the word spread" I finished. 

"So you're telling me if I want to dance I have to let them put their hands all over me'. 

"Yep, but it's all good fun and when it gets to be too much then you shoot them down. Then they will figure you will play a little and maybe if they play their cards right? 

" So mister wise guy are you alright with a little play and how do I re interest them in me as a playmate"

. 

"Well if I were you with your assets I would put on my shortest mini skirt and sit with my back to the bar and when the bartender came to take my order I would turn with just my shoulder to order and give them a short look at my sexiest underwear. That will start them salivating for sure". 

The bar they had chosen was only a restaurant and a parking lot away from my loft. On my way home from work on Friday I stopped in the bar ordered a beer and asked the bartender if he had noticed a group of girls that had pushed a couple of tables together and danced the night away last night. 

"Sure five of them have been coming in for awhile but last night they had a killer blond with them". (See, I told you about my wife!) I asked him what's with them. 

"Well they draw a lot of attention because the redhead goes out to the parking lot with a different guy every week. The others have all gone out at least once and a couple of them two or three times"

. 

That would sure make them popular. I went home and we went to the play house and saw a play and came home and she fucked my brains out. 

The next Thursday she wore the short skirt and came home smiling. I didn't explain about her friends figuring she would find out for herself. 

Four Thursday later she, came home not so happy. I asked her what was wrong again. 

"The whole night no one asked me to dance am I losing it"? 

I said no my dear you are still as beautiful as ever. I thought by now you would have figured it out. You know how Amy always disappears for a half hour or so every time you guys go there. I think you have probably noticed that some of the others are gone once in a while. 

I stopped in there after the first night you went there to see what was going on. There is no way any of your friends are going to attract more guys than you. The bar tender remembered a killer blond and told me the redhead was taking different guys out to the parking lot every time your friends were in there and they were getting lucky. The rest of your crew had all been to the lot at least once. 

My wife said, you're kidding? I'm not going to fuck some guy just for dancing partners! I get all the loving I want right here in our bed. 

I said look, I Want you to have fun. Just because you go to the parking lot doesn't mean you have to fuck anyone. Just go out there and neck with him, maybe let him feel you up. When he comes back in he will never let his buddies know he didn't get lucky. Then they will dance your socks off for another three or four weeks or just don't go out with your friends any more. 

You would let me do that? 

I just want you to be happy and whatever you do that makes you happy makes me happy. It's just a not so, good clean fun night right? 

If you feel you still want to go it's all right with me. I do however want you to take my Ford Edge and park it in the lot. I don't want you getting in some guys car. The next Wednesday I bought a box of condoms took them out of the box and put them in the front seat back pocket. Before she went to work on Thursday I told her they were there and if she couldn't keep him off her to use our condoms not the ones that have been in some guy's wallet for months that would probably fail. I know it won't happen but, better safe then sorry. Babe you know whatever you do is ok with me. I know you love me and I, know you will always come home to me. So, have fun it's just a game. But, be safe. 

I noticed she had the shot skirt on when she left and her underwear drawer told me her fanciest panties also. I went to work thinking this will be interesting. I can see the parking lot from my fourth floor loft. I saw her car when she pulled in at nine two of her friends were with her they worked in the same building she worked in. 

We rented the room on the first floor for a leather and leather working supplies business. Their offices are on the second floor the third floor is vacant we sometimes hold parties there. We live on the fourth floor. We bought it before the street became trendy. We are surrounded by restaurants and clubs now. I am constantly bothered by people trying to buy it from me.

I watched television while watching the lot. The restaurant is only one story so I can see almost all of the lot. She came out with some guy and got in the car. They moved around in the front seat for about twenty minutes and went back inside. I had seen both heads until they went in so I figured he didn't get lucky. 

At about two the rumble of the freight elevator woke me and told me she was home. She went right to the shower. 

She woke me again when she got into bed. Baby I need you to fuck me and take the feel of him out of me. You mean he got lucky. No but, he got his finger in me and I want the feel of him out of me. 

I did my duty and in four different positions. I knew I wouldn't get any thing done tomorrow. It was four AM before I got to sleep.

The next three weeks she never came out of the building and she came home happy. The fourth week she wasn't smiling. She said," they got wise to me again". 

The next week she wore the short skirt again. Predictably she came out about eleven-thirty with some guy. I had bought a telescope during the week in anticipation of her response to last week's partner shortfall. It almost put me in the car with them. 

This guy was very aggressive Somehow he had gotten her blouse undone and bra loosened in no time at all. He had taken her nipple in his mouth and she was trying to push his head away. Suddenly her hands dropped below the dashboard I think to stop his hand between her legs. 

But,. His arm was already sawing back and forth. She threw her head back against the seat, eyes closed tight, mouth open. Her head came slowly up and she clinched her teeth. She was doing something with her hands where I couldn't see. Then her arm began to move back and forth. Soon he raised his head from her breast gritted his teeth and scrunched up his face. She had saved herself by jacking him off until he lost his load. I wondered what she would tell me when she came home as I hid the telescope.

Baby, fuck the feel of him out of me He got his fingers in me. I noticed her panties were gone no mention of that or his mouth on her tits. 

Tonight I knew for sure one of these guys was going to fuck her brains out. I wondered how many more weeks it would take and how I would feel about it.

For another three weeks she came home smiling. On the fourth week she wore the short skirt again. I got out my telescope. Sure enough at around eleven she came out with a man, or should I say a man and a half. He was about six four or five maybe two-forty. I thought uh oh if this guy decides he wants her she won't be able to stop him. 

But, there wasn't any fighting. They necked for awhile. Then they talked for awhile. 

Suddenly she shimmied over the seat into the back of the wagon and started stripping. Soon she was naked as the day she was born. She lay back on the folded down back seat her knees touching each side of the car feet firmly planted on the head liner and watched him climb over the seat. I could see the mound of her pubes with its light blond fluff of hair. 

He knelt up on the floor boards and began to push his cock into her. The angle of my sight did not allow me to see their coupling. But, she bridged up and rolled her head back so that I was looking right into her eyes. They were squeezed tightly shut and her teeth were clinched lips drawn back in a pained grin. 

He worked in short rapid strokes. She never came off the back of her head all I could see was her tits as they rolled on her chest. The only things holding her up were her ass and the back of her head. Her nostrils were flared as she fought for breath. 

Finely he backed away from her and fired about five ropes of cum covering her from her belly button to her chin. So much for the rubbers. She smiled as she rolled off her head. Her shoulders seemed to rock with laughter. Several times as she dressed I saw her smile at him warmly laughing. 

They got out of the car but they started walking across the lot toward our place. I heard the freight elevator start to rumble. I didn't know what to do so I hid the telescope and jumped into bed and pretend I was sleeping. But then elevator stopped on the third floor. 

There are three ways to get to or from our loft. The freight elevator, a stair well on the outside of the building and the fire escape on the opposite side of the building. The door on the third floor of the stairs opens into a vestibule on the third floor. There is an opening into the kitchen on the right and a door into the big open area on the left. The kitchen has a pass trough into the main room. She had lit a small table lamp which supplied the only light on the third floor. 

Their clothes lay scattered on the floor next to a couch. She knelt astride him holding his prick upright she sank down on him her face set in a grimace of pain. She kind of bounced up and down on him but not quite settling all the way down on to him. 

He laughed and said," I told you were not woman enough to handle me. Go ahead laughing again try to take it all".

The pain was obvious as she strained and bounced. But, she could not settle all the way down onto him. She started to rise to get off him. 

He yelled, "hey you can't leave me like this". She fucked him for awhile then jumped off and began to jack him off using both hands. 

I saw what had gotten her interest. Even using both hands with space in between them she still had plenty of stroke room left. The man was a freak. He fired off a few ropes of come and laughed at her again. 

They dressed and got back on the elevator. I went back upstairs and he got in his car and she got in ours. Oddly they both drove out of the lot. She must have driven around a few blocks before I heard the basement door open and her car drive in. Then the rumble of the elevator on its way up told me she was home. This was going to be an interesting conversation. 

Tears were running down her cheeks smearing her mascara when she came in. I heard the elevator the first time. I had to look. She said "I am so sorry". 

Why? Because, he said I couldn't I wasn't woman enough. I was just going to play a little when I touched his pants. He said don't start something you can't finish. I told him I could. 

He said I couldn't I wasn't woman enough. I tried and I couldn't. I thought it was because there wasn't enough room in the car so I bought him over here. As you probably saw I still wasn't woman enough. 

Are you wiser now? 

Yes I know I will never be a size queen that hurt like hell. 

I didn't see any condoms in use. I hope he was healthy. I also hope we're not going to see him show up at our door wanting to give you another chance. 

She said", he thinks my girl friend lives here and gave me the key just in case I needed a place." 

Well I am not mad about the sex. I told you whatever made you happy was alright with me. I am however not pleased about the safety aspect of this night. You took too many chances tonight. 

She didn't tell me she wasn't going next week but, she didn't. And she never went again. We did however still socialize with her friends and their husbands and boyfriends. 



Pride, Prejudice and Passion



Mr Bingley was able to bring Darcy with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs Bennet had time to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs Bennet was not in the habit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining five set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same.

They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was high, she immediately said,

"Mr Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express."

"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs Gardiner was so little to be trusted.'

"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them."

"If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you."

Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever."

Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.

They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects. 

After a measureless passage of time, they found themselves in a small clearing in the woods, away from the well-trodden, familiar paths. Elizabeth at last turned to face Darcy. She now saw the warmth which his eyes bestowed upon her. Her own dark eyes flashed and her cheeks suffused with a heat that matched Darcy's.

Elizabeth was fortunate to be possessed of a fine figure. Her slim waist had no real need for the corset which all young ladies wore. But the whalebone stays pushed her breasts upward in a way that she knew most men found delightful. (Her dressmaker had confided to her that this season all the society ladies in London were wearing their décolletage so revealingly low). Her breasts were neither too large nor too small; round and perfectly formed, with palely translucent, flawless skin. 

Elizabeth was well aware, facing the tall Darcy, that his view could not help but be drawn to her bosom. Placing her hands firmly on her hips she drew herself to her full height, which had the effect of revealing the pale pink aureoles of her nipples strained against the fine lace trim of the taut bodice of her dress.

Darcy seized her by the arms -- a precipitate action which added a further stress to her clothing and caused her breasts to be released, with a springing bounce, from their constraint. Mortified, Darcy stepped back, but Elizabeth, having come so far and through so much turmoil of emotion in the ebb and flow of her relations with Darcy, would have no more of his reluctance. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her naked breasts against his manly chest.

"Dearest Miss Bennet," stumbled Darcy. "What must you think of my intentions?"

"Why, Mr Darcy, I believe I divine your intentions most clearly," responded Elizabeth, who was feeling his distinct hardness pressed against her belly. As a man, Darcy was used to the unambiguous language of his fellows, but not so to the ways of women. Cautiously, he hugged her and pressed his body against hers; a caution, it seemed, that was justified, as she pushed him away to her arms' length. Reaching under her dress, she fiddled with something unseen, then, to Darcy's unconcealed delight, her unlaced pantaloons dropped around her finely-turned ankles. Darcy made to seize her again, but she held up a restraining hand. "Mr. Darcy, I must inform you that I am virgo intacto and I intend to remain that way until my wedding night. Furthermore, I do not wish to risk the possibility of being with child, out of wedlock. It would quite destroy my poor mama."

Darcy stood there confused. His lust was now obvious, and Elizabeth could not help but notice the prominent bulge in his well-cut breeches. She laughed gaily at the poor fellow's befuddlement and exclaimed "Dear Mr Darcy. Do not put on such a long face, I beseech you. There is more than one way to skin a cat!" So saying, the sweet minx turned her back to him, bent over and flipped her petticoats up over her waist. Her well-turned calves were encased in white silk stockings, and from her rounded knees there swelled upward two utterly delicious thighs, neither plump nor thin, but of such proportions as most please a gentleman's eye. Her bottom presented two warm and unsullied hemispheres which inrolled into an enticing groove. She grasped her cheeks and spread them wide, revealing her most private part. "Mr Darcy, sir, I await your pleasure." Needing no further bidding, Darcy fell to his knees with a growl and thrust his wet tongue into her puckered bottomhole. 

Elizabeth mewed with pleasure as Darcy's tongue worked her rosehole. Still kneeling, he gently urged his little finger within her spittle-moistened opening, then removed it, replacing it with the tip of his forefinger which he proceeded to move in and out, at the same time lavishing sweet kisses on her most luscious bottom. His finger now firmly embedded, Darcy stood and loosed his breeches with his left hand. He stood there admiringly and introduced another finger to her orifice, which by now was producing its own faint oily secretion, indicative of the pleasure she was secretly obtaining. Darcy drew her hand down to his rigid cock, so her fingers could feel its strength and pulsing. "Now, my darling, guide it within," he whispered hoarsely. He manoeuvred himself close forward so she held the crest of his rod against her most secretive aperture. "Aah! Ooh! No! It's too big!" She wriggled vigorously. "I fear I cannot . . ." Darcy was by now incapable of changing course. He urged his prick remorselessly inward until, as with a silent 'Pop!' her sphincter yielded, and his engorged shaft sheathed itself a full three inches within. "Tay-ay-ay-ake it out!" she all but screamed and, thrusting her left arm back, twisted her face and shoulders about so that her face came perfectly into his view. It was her undoing. The sight of those full lips and wide beautiful eyes energized Darcy as much as did the warm, involuntary clenching of her tube. With a veritable growl he fell upon her, mashing his lips passionately over her own and -- with a single powerful lunge -- burying his cock completely in her virginal bottom.

Ah, the sweet elasticity of her rectal muscles that could yield to receive so doughty a shaft! He ignored the bubbling, sobbing cries that flooded his mouth as the luscious bulb of her bottom ground into his belly. She was well and truly corked, his cock throbbing its imploring desire within her.

"Whooooo!" she moaned into his mouth as he withdrew half the length of his sturdy prick, thrust in again and then sucked out almost to the knob. He sucked on her tongue while keeping her literally at fever point by maintaining the knob of his cock just within her orifice.

"It pleasures you, does it not? Is it not delicious to urge your bottom back onto a manly cock? Come, press it back a little whilst I hold still . . ., now . . . aah!" With the barest reluctance, Elizabeth obeyed. She eased his way, gently pushed, clenched her cheeks, unclenched, ground into him possessively, then wriggled, jerked and thrust her bottom, embedding his cock a full five inches within and gripping it so possessively he almost came.

At that moment Mr Bennet appeared from a position of concealment. 

"Egad! Darcy. I confess I have been watching you two these past several minutes, having taken an unpremeditated shortcut from my regular morning stroll." It was obvious the gentleman was in a high state of arousal as he watched his eldest daughter being pummeled by the sweating Darcy. "I have longed to take her there myself, since she was a child dandled on my knee. But the little vixen would have none of it, despite her teasing ways. Has her mouth tasted cock this morning, sir?" With Darcy's grunted negative, he loosed his breeches and, grasping his daughter's hair, guided his uprisen cock between her lips. 

"Then, by Jove, she shall taste it now!" 

"Oh, no papa . . ., mmrrmmph . . ." she trailed off as his tool forced its way into her mouth.

Elizabeth's surrender was by now complete. Her heaving shoulders and rotating hips evinced the lustful pleasure she was now obtaining. Smacking loudly again and again into Darcy's belly, her bottom churned, gripped and sucked upon his cock in a perfect melee of rhythmic movements until, unable to conserve his forces any longer, he seized her thighs and rammed himself in to the root, and effected powerful jets of come in long, burning shoots which made her quiver ecstatically. Her rosehole being so lubricated by his sperm, he continued pistoning her vigorously until the last leaping pellets were expelled within the warm, velvety cheeks pressed amorously into his belly. At the same time her father moaned and released his load and, for a while, naught was heard save the groans of the two men as Elizabeth impelled with her mouth and bottom the long shoots of semen that coursed within her at both ends.

Mr Bennet fell away and lay on his back and snored. Darcy and Elizabeth remained locked together for a long moment whilst his cock continued to throb and tick inside her, then -- withdrawing his piston slowly -- they sank to the ground, caressing each other's thighs as the last dribbles of come oozed slowly from her now-responsive flesh.

"I hope, Miss Bennet, that was to your liking and I did not hurt you?" asked Darcy. "Yes, to the first, and no, to the second" she whispered quietly, then, to his utmost surprise, she gave a little giggle and, groping down between them, took hold of his cock in her warm fingers. "Does it . . . does it always get big so quickly? She asked hesitantly and then hid her face in his shirtfront at so bold a question. "I cannot believe it all went into my bottom" she murmured with such plain disbelief in her voice that Darcy laughed aloud and kissed her.

"I take it, Miss Bennet, this means at long last we shall be intimate friends?"

Elizabeth coloured and laughed as she replied, "Yes, you know enough of my frankness to believe me capable of that. After abusing you so abominably for all this time, I feel that you have evened the score."